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Ghosts of dear temptations, heed;
I am frail, be you forgiving.
See you not that I have need
To be living with the living?
I am frail, be you forgiving.
See you not that I have need
To be living with the living?
Sail, to-night, the Styx’s breast;
Glide among the dim processions
Of the exquisite unblest.
Spirits of my shared transgressions.
Glide among the dim processions
Of the exquisite unblest.
Spirits of my shared transgressions.
Roam with young Persephone,
Plucking poppies for your slumber . . .
With the morrow, there shall be
One more wraith among your number.
Plucking poppies for your slumber . . .
With the morrow, there shall be
One more wraith among your number.
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