<SPAN name="XXVII"></SPAN>XXVII<br/>
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Fervency of sense, of heart, of soul—<br/>
Vain words created to despoil love's powers;<br/>
Sun, you distinguish not between your flames<br/>
Of all your evening, dawn, or midday hours.<br/>
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You move all blinded by your proper light<br/>
Through blazing space, beneath the arched sky,<br/>
Knowing alone that your great, ample power<br/>
Works at things mysterious and high.<br/>
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For love means exaltation's ceaseless deeds;<br/>
Oh you whose sweetness sweetens my proud heart,<br/>
What need to weigh the pure gold of our dream?<br/>
I love you wholly, with my every part.<br/>
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