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IT IS HER VOICE WHO DWELLS WITHIN THE EMERALD WALL AND SAPPHIRE HOUSE OF FLAME:
Behold! a white Hawk tangled in a twisted net of dreamsStruggles no more, but lines the cords with feathers from her breastSeeing herself within the mystic circle of my voice,Whereat forthwith its music turns to blades and tongues of fireRending the bonds and weaving round the Hawk a skein of lightRaising the work and the Toiler to the never-ending Day.
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