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|White Dove of the Wild Dark Eyes|
White Dove of the wild dark eyes|
Faint silver flutes are calling
From the night where the star-mists rise
And fire-flies falling
Tremble in starry wise,
Is it you they are calling?
White Dove of the beating heart|
Shrill golden reeds are thrilling
In the woods where the shadows start,
While moonbeams, filling
With dreams the floweret’s heart
Its dreams are thrilling.
White Dove of the folded wings,|
Soft purple night is crying
With the voice of fairy things
For you, lest dying
They miss your flashing wings,
Your splendorous flying.
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Lane Core Jr. (firstname.lastname@example.org)
Created March 19, 2001; not revised.