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As we hear, as we hear

Of your Earth's voice, ceaseless and clear:

Weaves so—so—so:—

But you cannot ever know!"

'Twere good you should have watched O Tsuru San

Deftly pace this, with little lifted feet

Shod in the white silk tabi: and soft lips

Making the melodies to guide her feet,

The music sitting silent; or, at most,

Dropping a high note in now and again.

Then, with her fan before her face, or waved