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Authors:

I am a king's daughter, And if I cared to care, The moon that has no mistress. Would flutter in my hair. No one dares to cherish. What I choose to crave. Never have I hungered, For that I did not have. I am a kings daughter, And I grow old within. The prison of my person, The shackles of my skin. And I would run away. And beg from door to door, Just to see your shadow. Once, and never more.

Peter S. Beagle