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Maid of Athens ere we part

 Maid of Athens, ere we part, 
Give, oh, give back my heart! 
Or, since that has left my breast, 
Keep it now, and take the rest! 
Hear my vow before I go, 
Zo? mou sas agapo.
By those tresses unconfined, Wooed by each Aegean wind; By those lids whose jetty fringe Kiss thy soft cheeks' blooming tinge; By those wild eyes like the roe, Zo? mou sas agapo.
By that lip I long to taste; By that zone-encircled waist; By all the token-flowers that tell What words can never speak so well; By love's alternate joy and woe, Zo? mou sas agapo.
Maid of Athens! I am gone: Think of me, sweet! when alone.
Though I fly to Istambol, Athens holds my heart and soul: Can I cease to love thee? No! Zo? mou sas agapo.

Poem by George (Lord) Byron
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