soup?"—“No, sir."—“Any bread?"—“Oh no, sir."—“Any

time:2023-12-03 05:41:22edit:xsnsource:xsn

But whether note of joy or knell,


Not his own Father-singer knew;


Save only how it shivers through;


The breast of us a sounded shell,

His Lady queen of woods to meet,

The leaves have whisperings discreet,

Across a lustrous ring of space,

For darkness is the light astrain,

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