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Words for the forgetting morn |
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The colour arising as I scrape by |
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Of that most vital, hid inside |
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It displays that most heavenly of signs |
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And does confess most grievous sin. |
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Full of opposite and contradiction |
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Our dearest ones, line and brother |
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It describes our loves, and those we should shun |
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Monsters we are, sport and succour. |
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(If I should die |
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If this should last |
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I pray my Lord |
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This soul to pass) |
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The suff'ring and bond that it represents |
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Are wiped away with mild indifference. |
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