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Fluttered Wings

Rating: 2.7

The splendour of the kindling day,
The splendor of the setting sun,
These move my soul to wend its way,
And have done
With all we grasp and toil amongst and say.

The paling roses of a cloud,
The fading bow that arches space,
These woo my fancy toward my shroud,
Toward the place

Of faces veil’d, and heads discrown’d and bow’d.
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8/3/2021 10:18:44 AM # 1.0.0.669