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Oh, thy fair white lily-fingers,
Might I only once more kiss them,
Only press them to my heart,
Only die in silent weeping!
Oh, thy clear eyes, violet-tinted,
Float before me day and night—
And it tortures me—what mean ye,
O ye sweetest, bluest riddles?
Might I only once more kiss them,
Only press them to my heart,
Only die in silent weeping!
Oh, thy clear eyes, violet-tinted,
Float before me day and night—
And it tortures me—what mean ye,
O ye sweetest, bluest riddles?
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