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Rating: 2.7
Last night, ah, yesternight, betwixt her lips and mine
There fell thy shadow, Cynara! thy breath was shed
Upon my soul between the kisses and the wine;
And I was desolate and sick of an old passion,

Yea, I was desolate and bowed my head:
I have been faithful to thee, Cynara! in my fashion.
All night upon mine heart I felt her warm heart beat,
Night-long within mine arms in love and sleep she lay;
Surely the kisses of her bought red mouth were sweet;
But I was desolate and sick of an old passion,
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Eugene Cherny MD 23 May 2020
Incredibly I learned this poem in high school English as an impressionable young lad. It an elegy for lost love as is The Raven, but from a unique point of view, being with a prostitute to forget her. A hypnotic rhythm like The Raven without the alliteration. Haunting. And the origin of the term Gone with the Wind.
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Dr Dillip K Swain 31 October 2017
Beautiful poem.. enjoyed..10
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