...this battleground of trees, whose majesty of limbs are twigs of poetry...the first word found...
We must, of needs, so fully cloak the sacred, as not to seek the naked sorcery...yet, of it's supple form, the hart will leap...for seeing, on some distant morrow...
We must, of needs, so fully cloak the sacred, as not to seek the naked sorcery...yet, of it's supple form, the hart will leap...for seeing, on some distant morrow...
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