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The Triumph Of Dead : Chap. 2

That night, which did the dreadful hap ensue
That quite eclips'd, nay, rather did replace
The sun in skies, and me bereave of view,
Did sweetly sprinkle through the airy space
The summer's frost, which, with Tithonus' bride,
Cleareth of dream the dark-confused face,
When, lo, a lady, like unto the tide,
With orient jewels crown'd, from thousands more
Crowned as she, to me I coming spied.
And first her hand, sometime desired so,
Reaching to me, at once she sigh'd and spake,
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6/24/2021 6:04:22 PM # 1.0.0.634