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My
romances,
whose
heroines,
if
still
living,
must
have
white
hair,
arose
before
me
with
all
the
bitterness
of
loved
things
forever
gone.
Oh,
the
young
brows
shaded
by
golden
hair,
the
clasped
hands,
the
speaking
glances,
the
throbbing
hearts,
the
smile
that
promises
the
lips
and
the
lips
that
promise
all
-
then
the
first
kiss
-
long,
unending,
with
no
thought
but
of
the
immense
ecstasy
to
come!
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