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Kindling Is this fire that burns in me but the phantom of a flame, A haunting vain pretension lit to kindle my disdain? Is all that my heart fiercely knows but unsettled aftermath, Falling light as leprous snow upon coals of smoldering wrath? For if it is, and I'm deceived, then bind me to a stake, And let love's raging inferno resolve me of my ache. |
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