Upon her breast her hands and hair Were tangled all together. The moon of June forbade me not — The golden night time weather In balmy sighs commanded me To kiss them like a feather. Her looming hair, her burning hands, Were tangled black and white. My face I buried there. I pray — So far from her to-night — For grace, to dream I kiss her soul Amid the black and white.SourceThe script ran 0 seconds.
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