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He:
What are the sins of my race, Beloved, what are my people to thee?
And what are thy shrine, and kine and kindred, what are thy gods to me?
Love recks not of feuds and bitter follies, of stranger, comrade or kin,
Alike in his ear sound the temple bells and the cry of the muezzin.
For Love shall cancel the ancient wrong and conquer the ancient rage,
Redeem with his tears the memoried sorrow that sullied a bygone age.
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