Song of the Morning-Glories
We wedded each a star,—
A warrior true,
That plighted faith afar
In drops of dew.
But comes the cruel Dawn:
The dew is dry;
And we, our lovers gone,
Lamenting, die.
A warrior true,
That plighted faith afar
In drops of dew.
But comes the cruel Dawn:
The dew is dry;
And we, our lovers gone,
Lamenting, die.
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