Long-felt desires, hopes as long as vain-- sad sighs--slow tears accustomed to run sad into as many rivers as two eyes could add, pouring like fountains, endless as the rain-- cruelty beyond humanity, a pain so hard it makes compassionate stars go mad with pity: these are the first passions I've had. Do you think love could root in my soul again? If it arched the great bow back again at me,
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