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A pard-like Spirit beautiful and swift-- A love in desolation masked--a power Girt round with weakness; it can scarce uplift The weight of the superincumbent hour. It is a dying lamp, a falling shower, A breaking billow;--even whilst we speak Is it not broken? On the withering flower The killing sun smiles brightly: on a cheek The life can burn in blood even while the heart may break. -Percy Bysshe Shelley (1792-1822), Adonais |
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