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The Wind Among the Reeds

AEDH TELLS OF THE PERFECT BEAUTY

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O cloud-pale eyelids, dream-dimmed eyes The poets labouring all their days To build a perfect beauty in rhyme Are overthrown by a woman's gaze And by the unlabouring brood of the skies: And therefore my heart will bow, when dew Is dropping sleep, until God burn time, Before the unlabouring stars and you.

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