< Page:Sibylline Leaves (Coleridge).djvu
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And into tenderness soon dying,
Wheel out their giddy moment, then
Resign the soul to love again.
A more precipitated vein
Of notes, that eddy in the flow
Of smoothest song, they come, they go,
And leave their sweeter understrain
Its own sweet self—a love of Thee
That seems, yet cannot greater be!
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