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so:text The cypress stood up like a church That night we felt our love would hold, And saintly moonlight seemed to search And wash the whole world clean as gold; The olives crystallized the vales' Broad slopes until the hills grew strong: The fireflies and the nightingales Throbbed each to either, flame and song. The nightingales, the nightingales. (en)
so:isPartOf https://en.wikiquote.org/wiki/Elizabeth_Barrett_Browning
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