Mention417534
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so:text | What was this dream we had, a dream of music, Music that rose from the opening earth like magic And shook its beauty upon us and died away? The long cold streets extend once more before us. The red sun drops, the walls grow grey. (en) |
so:isPartOf | https://en.wikiquote.org/wiki/Conrad_Aiken |
so:description | The House of Dust (1916 - 1917) (en) |
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qkg:Quotation395151 | qkg:hasMention |
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