I can see and hear my Muse mourn and sigh;
silent, I just listen and don't ask why.
Her woe belies her true, intense desire,
though she's forever willing to inspire.
Tho' sad, she finds me in the cool of morn
by the brooks and bowers where I was born;
there she alights and works her faerie powers
in, around, and amidst...
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