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The Philosopher
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All day I've toiled, but not with pain
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That wind, I used to hear it swelling
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The Night of storms has passed
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Far, far away is mirth withdrawn
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Not a vapour had stained the breezeless blue
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The Death Of A.G.A
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To a Wreath of Snow
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I see around me tombstones grey
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I would have touched the heavenly key
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