SECRET LOVE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE
The raving of last night is everywhere,
she hopes in candle-light; she sets her hair,
while Paris lulls to sleep, the storm goes on
more promises to keep, before the dawn.
More lightning gloats her room, she shakes her head,
and thunderous, the gloom would raise the dead;
in shadows from the sound, where devils wait,
she feels...
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