The Squint
The Squint taking a skewered look Painting by Peter Cheevers
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Was it only a dream I loved?
Illumined by the
principle
That chose my consecration
It extends a salutation.
These nymphs I would perpetuate.
Was it a dream I loved?
All alone I gave
Myself for triumph the ideal sin of roses.
Our blood, aflame for her who will take it,
Flows for all the eternal swarm of desire.
These nymphs I would perpetuate.
So clear
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