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    I never wrote you a love song
    Somehow words could not express what I needed to say.
    And so I never wrote you a love song
    And now its much, much too late 'cause you've gone away

    But I will build this monument
    To remember all the love we once had
    And I'll close my eyes and make it how it used to be
    I swear I never stopped loving you with everything I am
    And it hurts so much to think you stopped loving me
    You stopped loving me...

    So I wish I'd had written you a love song
    And somehow you understood what it feels to be me
    Because the Angel loves the sprite forever
    And does it unconditionally

    But I will build this monument
    To remember all the love we once had
    And I'll close my eyes and make it how it used to be
    I swear I never stopped loving you with everything I am
    And it hurts so much to think you stopped loving me
    You stopped loving me...

    (excerpt from La Belle Dame Sans Merci by W.B. Keats - 1819)

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    I met a lady in the meads,
    Full beautiful--a faery's child,
    Her hair was long, her foot was light,
    And her eyes were wild.

    I made a garland for her head,
    And bracelets too, and fragrant zone;
    She looked at me as she did love,
    And made sweet moan.

    I set her on my pacing steed,
    And nothing else saw all day long,
    For sidelong would she bend, and sing
    A faery's song.

    She found me roots of relish sweet,
    And honey wild, and manna dew,
    And sure in language strange she said--
    "I love thee true."

    She took me to her elfin grot,
    And there she wept and sighed full sore,
    And there I shut her wild eyes
    With kisses four.

    And there she lulled me asleep
    And there I dreamed--ah! woe betide!
    The latest dream I ever dreamed
    On the cold hill's side.

    I saw pale kings and princes too,
    Pale warriors, death-pale were they all;
    They cried--"La Belle Dame sans Merci
    Hath thee in thrall!"

    I saw their starved lips in the gloam,
    With horrid warning gaped wide,
    And I awoke and found me here,
    On the cold hill's side.

    And this is why I sojourn here
    Alone and palely loitering,
    Though the sedge is withered from the lake,
    And no birds sing.

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