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Not while I live may I forget That garden which my spirit trod! Where dreams were flowers, wild and wet, And beautiful as God. Not while I breathe, awake adream, Shall live again for me those hours, When, in its mystery and gleam, I met her 'mid the flowers.
Not while I live may I forget That garden which my spirit trod! Where dreams were flowers, wild and wet, And beautiful as God. Not while I breathe, awake adream, Shall live again for me those hours, When, in its mystery and gleam, I met her 'mid the flowers.
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