| But on a sweet soft tranquil eve of spring |
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| 'What next?' I marvel: but I follow her |
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| Comes Helen. How the virgin vision touches |
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| O, there is plenty for the true romancer |
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| Night for love, A. Sir Rupert of the Sword |
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| A Tall west window opens up the glen |
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| Let me read Greek, to see if I'm awake |
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| Rupert Loraine was of a knightly house |
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| And when the maiden from his clasp had fled |
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| Three inches high, and not a single decimal |
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