Small hands entwined, robed lily white,
I rowed our small craft failing light,
she lay infused, entombed in grace
I stroked the oars with hardened face.
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The muse said if she ever died,
I must bring her to Isle Curdi....
bringing the muse to the isle is a wise step, though it's different she cannot die! ! !
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The muse said if she ever died, I must bring her to Isle Curdi.... bringing the muse to the isle is a wise step, though it's different she cannot die! ! !