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"Love flames aloft in thousand eager sunspheres, Joy wooeth joy within the heart so warmly: Down from the darkling sky soft stars are shining. Back-mirrored from the deep, still wells of love-tears. "Delight, alas! doth die of joy too burning The sweetest fruit hath aye the bitt'rest kernel While longing beckons from the violet distance, In pain of love my heart to dust is turning.
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