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Tutto è Sciolto

 A birdless heaven, seadusk, one lone star
Piercing the west,
As thou, fond heart, love's time, so faint, so far,
The clear young eyes' soft look, the candid brow, The fragrant hair, Falling as through the silence falleth now Dusk of the air.
Why then, remembering those shy Sweet lures, repine When the dear love she yielded with a sigh Was all but thine?

Poem by James Joyce
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