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When I have fears that I may cease to be. Before my pen has gleaned my teeming brain,. Before high-pilèd books, in charactery,. Hold like rich garners the full ripened grain;. Huge cloudy symbols of a high romance,. And think that I may never live to trace. Their shadows with the magic hand of chance;. And when I feel, fair creature of an hour,. That I shall never look upon thee more,. Never have relish in the faery power.
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Deviant since Nov 12, 2007.