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In everything I seek to grasp
In everything I seek to
The fundamental:
The daily choice, the daily task,
The sentimental
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In everything I seek to
The fundamental:
The daily choice, the daily task,
The sentimental
Go seek her out all courteously,
And say I come,
Wind of spices whose song is ever Epithalamium
O, hurry over the dark lands And run upon the sea For seas and lands shall not divide us My love and me
All the trees are sleeping, all the winds are still,
All the flocks of fleecy clouds have wandered past the hill;
Through the noonday silence, down the woods of June,
Hark, a little hunter's voice comes running with a tune