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Beyond a mortal man impassioned far At these voluptuous accents, he arose, Ethereal, flushed, and like a throbbing star Seen 'mid the sapphire heaven's deep repose Into her dream he melted, as the rose Blendeth its odor with the violet-- Solution sweet: meantime the frost-wind blows Like Love's alarum pattering the sharp sleet Against the windowpanes; St. Agnes' moon hath set. -John Keats (1795-1821), The Eve of St. Agnes |
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