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Authors:

Spend the glittering moonlight there. Pursuing down the soundless deep. Limbs that gleam and shadowy hair, Or floating lazy, half-asleep. Dive and double and follow after, Snare in flowers, and kiss, and call, With lips that fade, and human laughter. And faces individual, Well this side of Paradise! . . . There's little comfort in the wise.

Rupert Brooke