Haste not thine wisdom, for the hollow is ta'en -
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By whom, know I not; 'lack! am I of twain -
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And as a crux - cede I my words -
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Fro my heart wilt thou ne'er
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Have I been 'sooth sinsyne.
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Be left without - come!
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Thine voice is oh so sweet, I speer thine pine,
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Ryking for me:
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Ryking for thee;
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"List and heed", thou say'st
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Wistful, whistful -
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Chancing to lure.
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Chancing to lure,
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Skirl and skreigh, but for thine ears, aye, lown 'tis -
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Dodge na 'way herefro, do come here in eath!
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Mayhap lured by the scent of lote -
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'Od! - the foetid - eft hie back I mote;
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For what I did my soul atrounced,
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How I wish for thee again,
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O! do believe me, 'twasn't a frounce.
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Will I give thee it: Troth.
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Thine voice is oh so sweet, I speer thine pine,
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Ryking for me:
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Ryking for thee;
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"List and heed", thou say'st
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Wistful, whistful -
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Chancing to lure.
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Chancing to lure,
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Skirl and skreigh, but for thine ears, aye, lown 'tis -
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Dodge na 'way herefro, do come here in eath!
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Siren
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Theatre Of Tragedy |