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						The Dream by George William Russell 
						
						I WOKE to find my pillow wet   With the tears for deeds deep hid in sleep. I knew no sorrow here, but yet   The tears fell softly through the deep.  
  Your eyes, your other eyes of dream,   Looked at me through the veil of blank; I saw their joyous, starlit gleam   Like one who watches rank on rank.  
  His victor airy legions wind   And pass before his awful throne— Was there thy loving heart unkind,   Was I thy captive all o’erthrown?						 
						
						
						
						
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