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W.B. Yeats

Ephemera ‘Your eyes that once were never weary of mine Are bowed in sorrow under pendulous lids, Because our love is waning.’ And then she: ‘Although our love is waning, let us stand By the long border of the lake once more, Together in that hour of gentleness When the poor tired child, Passion, falls… Continue reading W.B. Yeats

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