More dim than wining moon
Thy face, mort faint
Than is the falling wind
Thy voice, yet do
Thine eyes most strangely glow,
Thou host . . thou ghost.
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More dim than wining moon
Thy face, mort faint
Than is the falling wind
Thy voice, yet do
Thine eyes most strangely glow,
Thou host . . thou ghost.
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