Scritta da: Silvana Stremiz
The lonesome for they know not What -
The Eastern Exiles - be -
Who strayed beyond the Amber line
Some madder Holiday -
And ever since - the purple Moat
They strive to climb - in vain -
As Birds - that tumble from the clouds
Do fumble at the strain -

The Blessed Ether - taught them -
Some Transatlantic Morn -
When Heaven - was too common - to miss -
Too sure - to dote upon!

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    Scritta da: Silvana Stremiz

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