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Song
poetry [ ]

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
by [Samuel_Taylor_Coleridge ]

2005-06-03  | [This text should be read in romana]    |  Submited by Antal Adrian



Tho' veiled in spires of myrtle-wreath,
Love is a sword that cuts its sheath,
And thro' the clefts, itself has made,
We spy the flashes of the Blade !

But thro' the clefts, itself has made,
We likewise see Love's flashing blade,
By rust consumed or snapt in twain :
And only Hilt and Stump remain.

.  |










 
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