Whereso shouldst fickle dawn trace its shattered fingers?
Wouldst not I murder in it's pale light;
Were'st not for these halcyon clouds who omen
Terror beneath tranquil façades;-
Sure'st as such fleeting day must bleed thus
Into bless'ed night,
Sweet sorrow as the swanspath now
Should'st greet me with enceinte arms.


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Amen

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