518 Her sweet Weight on my Heart a Night Had scarcely deigned to lie— When, stirring, for Belief`s delight, My Bride had slipped away— If `twas a Dream—made solid—just The Heaven to confirm— Or if Myself were dreamed of Her— The power to presume— With Him remain—who unto Me— Gave—even as to All— A Fiction superseding Faith— By so much—as `twas real—SourceThe script ran 0.001 seconds.
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