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Darkling I Listen
by
John Keats
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Darkling I listen; and for many a time I have been half in love with easeful Death Called him soft names in many a mused rhyme To take into the air my quiet breath; Now more than ever seems it rich to die To cease upon the midnight with no pain While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad In such an ecstasy! Still wouldst thou sing, and I have ears in vain - To thy high requiem become a sod
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