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WHEN
have I last looked on |
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The round green eyes and the
long wavering bodies |
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Of the dark leopards of the
moon? |
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All the wild witches, those
most noble ladies, |
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For all their broom-sticks and
their tears, |
5 |
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Their angry tears, are gone. |
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The holy centaurs of the hills
are banished; |
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I have nothing but the harsh
sun; |
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Heroic mother moon has
vanished, |
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And now that I have come to
fifty years |
10 |
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I must endure the timid sun. |
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