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And lest when dear illusions come They melt o’er-fast, she hides her eyes, And feigns to see her native home, And shouts in play her soul’s surprise. So while the southern glory burns The haunting vision still returns.
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And lest when dear illusions come They melt o’er-fast, she hides her eyes, And feigns to see her native home, And shouts in play her soul’s surprise. So while the southern glory burns The haunting vision still returns.
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