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Prisoner, The. A Fragment
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He comes with western winds, with evening's wandering airs
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Still let my tyrants know, I am not doomed to wear
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Darkness was overtraced on every face
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There are two trees in a lonely field
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Lady, in your Palace Hall
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I'll come when thou art saddest
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There was a time when my cheek burned
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How golden bright from earth and heaven
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How Clear She Shines!
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