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Sappho, v. 1 issue 1, June 1943
Page 11
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LIEBESTRAUM no black so black as arleen's hair-- no eyes so clear, no face so fair. The moon is soft, the wind is low; 'Neath wispy tree the flowers grow; The languid brook hums, haunting, slow, While silver clouds serenely glow . . . no way to view beneath the shell to see the soul; a loathsome hell. The ebon towers crumble, fall-- A shadow fills the purple hall. Then, like some great tenebrous pall The blacker fog engulfs them all. . . --TOM WRIGHT.
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LIEBESTRAUM no black so black as arleen's hair-- no eyes so clear, no face so fair. The moon is soft, the wind is low; 'Neath wispy tree the flowers grow; The languid brook hums, haunting, slow, While silver clouds serenely glow . . . no way to view beneath the shell to see the soul; a loathsome hell. The ebon towers crumble, fall-- A shadow fills the purple hall. Then, like some great tenebrous pall The blacker fog engulfs them all. . . --TOM WRIGHT.
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