427 I`ll clutch—and clutch— Next—One—Might be the golden touch— Could take it— Diamonds—Wait— I`m diving—just a little late— But stars—go slow—for night— I`ll string you—in fine Necklace— Tiaras—make—of some— Wear you on Hem— Loop up a Countess—with you— Make—a Diadem—and mend my old One— Count—Hoard—then lose— And doubt that you are mine— To have the joy of feeling it—again— I`ll show you at the Court— Bear you—for Ornament Where Women breathe— That every sigh—may lift you Just as high—as I— And—when I die— In meek array—display you— Still to show—how rich I go— Lest Skies impeach a wealth so wonderful— And banish me—SourceThe script ran 0.001 seconds.
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