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Do not come here, near to me
Not at all.

If suddenly, in a dreary, dreamy night
The moon reaches out: as if it might
Cocoon us in its pretense;
And when you hear the silvery night bright
Call us out to take that furtive flight
To pronounce the muffled youth’s presence-

Do not come here, dear to me,
Not at all.

If and ever, midst a mirthful summer day
You start to wish so it may
Turn into an hour candidly clouded;
Should you feel a hand may lay
Onto yours, neglecting the sin of a prolonged stay
As the downpour altered the place crowded-

Do not ever yearn it to be me,
Darling, hear you me!
Not ever, not at all.

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