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Already with thee! tender is the night. . . . . . But here there is no light, Save what from heaven is with the breezes blown Through verdurous glooms and winding mossy ways. —Ode to a Nightingale TO GERALD and SARA MANY FÊTES I On the pleasant shore...

Ecoute ma voix écoute ma prière Ecoute mon cœur qui bat laisse-toi faire Je t'en prie ne sois pas farouche Quand me vient l'eau à la bouche Je te veux confiante je te sens captive Je te veux docile je te sens craintive Je t'en prie ne sois pas farouche...

The glazed eye of the tired reader resting for a second on the above title will presume it to be merely metaphorical. Stories about the cup and the lip and the bad penny and the new broom rarely have anything to do with cups or lips or pennies or brooms....

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