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The brawling of a sparrow in the eaves, |
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The brilliant moon and all the milky sky, |
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And all that famous harmony of leaves, |
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Had blotted out man's image and his cry. |
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A girl arose that had red mournful lips |
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And seemed the greatness of the world in tears, |
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Doomed like Odysseus and the labouring ships |
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And proud as Priam murdered with his peers; |
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Arose, and on the instant clamorous eaves, |
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A climbing moon upon an empty sky, |
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And all that lamentation of the leaves, |
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Could but compose man's image and his cry. |
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[From the poem "The Sorrow of Love" by William Butler Yeats] |