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O MERLIN, how the magic from your eyes Bids the world flame about your idle feet, And makes a marvel of the humming street, The watchful bush, the starry-haunted skies! Dear, do you know that all such magic dies In foolish hearts that regularly beat? Blinded with dust, the elders in retreat Shake their thin locks to prove that they are wise.
God help them in their tameness: you are wild. |