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Unformatted text preview: fect little circle of a face; her chin lifted so that her neck seemed all the more long and beautiful. She began to speak the poem, her voice soft and rapid, borne by the rhythm itself: One will rise who is too evil. One will come who is too good. L. A B M h.K 'Twixt the two, a witch shall/alter 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 cruel 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. For two nights and two days she stayed...
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- Spring '10