Distrustful of the Gentian - And just to turn away, The fluttering of her fringes Chid my perfidy - Weary for my —— I will singing go - I shall not feel the sleet - then - I shall not fear the snow. Flees so the phantom meadow Before the breathless Bee - So bubble brooks in deserts On ears that dying lie - Burn so the evening spires To eyes that Closing go - Hangs so distant Heaven - To a hand below
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