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God made her when he dreamed his fairest dream,
And called the angels that they might rejoice;
God sang into her heart, and lo, the theme
Lives in her swaying voice.
God made her when He breathed His softest word,
Shaping her gentler than His gentlest ways;
God blessed her, and the very suns were stirred
To rapture at her gaze.
God is so good He would not harm a flower,
At evil only His creation halts—
Oh then what spirit, what malignant power
Could make her soul so false?
And called the angels that they might rejoice;
God sang into her heart, and lo, the theme
Lives in her swaying voice.
God made her when He breathed His softest word,
Shaping her gentler than His gentlest ways;
God blessed her, and the very suns were stirred
To rapture at her gaze.
God is so good He would not harm a flower,
At evil only His creation halts—
Oh then what spirit, what malignant power
Could make her soul so false?
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