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Gold with a heart of cinder.
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muffling clouds muzzle most sounds
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O, come and help me draw this blanket up,
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A cadence of peace might balance its weight
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sleet pellets jitterbug
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’Cause I count my blessings, I don’t count my faults
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It’s beauty
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We have escaped the bitterness
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You, said Isaiah.
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Oh, Cloud, sweet scarf of the Moon’s repose. Once more