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92
Yet, fallen Willow ! if to me Such power of song were given,
My lips should breathe a soul through thee, And call down fire from heaven,
To kindle in this hallow'd Urn
A flame that would for ever burn.
�� �
92
Yet, fallen Willow ! if to me Such power of song were given,
My lips should breathe a soul through thee, And call down fire from heaven,
To kindle in this hallow'd Urn
A flame that would for ever burn.
�� �