Eyes lit up like beacons dark
Yet burning soft in twilight glow
No sound oft heard, nor visible mark,
Not love, nor hate did e'er I know
And yet in idle dreams I'd hide
Whilst love's red cisterns bleeding dry
Did give me cause for life denied,
and long sweet exiled hope did fly -
Away from me, from here to there
And sorrow's sweet, sweet scent I'd bare.
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