MY future    copy fair my past

        On any leaf but heavens. Be fully done,

        Supernal ill ! I    fain be one

        isfying t and breaking fast

        Upon t, at last

        Saiter meat. My wine h run

        Indeed out of my cup, and there is none

        to gat

        Scattered and trampled ! Yet I find some good

        Ireams t bubble up

        Clear from tent until

        I sit ter food.

        Dear C ! wage fills my cup,

        t wine spill.
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