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 So still, so slow

No mortal may know

Solemn and high and sweet;

All in a tune

To the Sun and the Moon,

For delight

Where the Angels pass

Like fish through the sea's green glass,

And, while we did not speak for wistfulness,

Watching the woven paces, wondering

To note how foot and tongue kept faultless time

To dreamy tinkling of the samisens,