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Des Imagistes

ΔΏΡΙΑ

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Be in me as the eternal moods

of the bleak wind, and not

As transient things are—

gaiety of flowers.

Have me in the strong loneliness

of sunless cliffs

And of grey waters.

Let the gods speak softly of us

In days hereafter,

The shadowy flowers of Orcus

Remember Thee.

Ezra Pound

42

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