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W.B. Yeats

Ephemera ‘Your eyes that once were never weary of mineAre bowed in sorrow under pendulous lids,Because our love is waning.’ And then she:‘Although our love is waning, let us standBy the long border of the lake once more,Together in that hour of gentlenessWhen the poor tired child, Passion, falls asleep:How far away the stars seem,… Continue reading W.B. Yeats

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