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Arisen from the rump and jump
Of glassware ephemeral
Beflowering not the harsh vigil,
Unknown the neck is interrupted.
Two mouths haven't I do think
Sipped, nor her lover nor my mother,
From the same Chimera ever,
Me, sylph of that cold ceiling!
The pure vase of no quaff
But viduity exhaustless
Agonizes but not consents,
Naive of the most funereal
kiss!
Aught expiring to announce
A rose in the darkness.
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