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Unformatted text preview: l falter and thereby open wide the door. Pain and suffering as they stumble Blood and fear before they learn. Woe betide this Springtime Eden Now the vale of those who mourn. Beware the watchers in that hour Bar the doctors from the house Scholars will but nourish evil Scientists would raise it high. Let the devil speak his story Let him rouse the angel's might Make the dead come back to witness Put the alchemist to flight. Slay the flesh that is not human Trust to weapons crude and sruel For, dying on the verge of wisdom, Tortured souls may seek the light, Crush the babes who are not children Show no mercy to the pure Else shall Eden have no Springtime. Else shall our kind reign no more. He read it over. Dreadful handwriting. You've let it go to pot, buddy. But it was readable, and now he circled the words Scholars, Scientists, alchemist. He wrote: "Julien was suspicious too. Incident in a church in Lon- don. Not in your files." He folded the paper, and put it in his pocket. He'd entrust this to Pierce or Gerald only, and one of them would be along before mid- night. Or maybe...
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- Spring '10