Such am I that the tavern-nook A hermitage for me is |
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Hark to the harp and the ghittern, What notification they make |
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When Time Unbegun thy beauty's sheen In manifestation set |
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Every moment I bemoan me Of the hand of separation |
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Thy beauty and loveliness take the world, End to end, all of it, side to side |
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Since in this age, companion Nor comrade, that fault-free is |
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Whoever observance and faith With the people of faith keepeth |
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Though the saying to the preacher Of this city light no whit is |
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"Wrong," quoth I, "is this thou doist; Ill-advised the thing, to wit, is |
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I for constancy renowned am Of the fair, the candle like |
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