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Oh, thou art fairer than the evening air Clad in the beauty of a thousand stars.

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Come live with me and be my love, And we will all the pleasures prove, That valleys, groves, hills, and fields, Woods, or steepy mountain yields.

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Heaven, envious of our joys, is waxen pale; And when we whisper, then the stars fall down To be partakers of our honey talk.(Dido, Queen of Carthage 4...more

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The stars move still, time runs, the clock will strike