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Though moon will set 'ware thee the dawn |
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For sunrise will become |
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And simple needs thou haveth not |
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Though grow you old to young |
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And 'ware thee of the honey-tongued |
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Caressing you with guile |
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By dawn we must be far from here |
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Though yet we stay awhile |
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Though the years were planned ahead |
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Never knew quite what to do |
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For when I asketh for the mockingbird |
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They gaveth me the shrew |
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And yea! I heard it when you called me |
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But was stone-cast; stunned and blind |
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For when the star fell back into the sky |
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Alas, it ate my mind. |