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■ The oak
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As waves of salt I melt and dig in stone
Cause thou in flesh I cut thy ropes of sorrow: I pace and prone towards the Sailor’s harbor, For one last time, all sails up and gone! And wounds as burning roses on my lips, Cold touch of rusted nails down her skin And ravens walk upon my limbs With their dark eyes, to sear me … within And how the door has closed forever more, For only beauty can enslave true love And hear the whistle of this raven’s song: For one last time, all sails up and gone!
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