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The eloquence of words
Renders a strange strength
To the windows of the heart.
By sweet tears,
The white paper
Talks a language of voluptous emotions.

Preserved and archived
By the whirl-winds of time,
The paper changes color
But the words
Still glow
With the swing of a delicate music.

The poet may die;
His spirit
Shall always live
In the fountains of human thought.

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