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Passion of laughter Convulsed me, but then followed Passion of weeping.

'Twas winter weather When yon bloomed forth before me— Then summer flourished!

Beauty's in all things! Mom is lovely, but also Lovely the night is.

The snow fell and robed London's great guilty city In purity's garb.

I heard my love sing: She knew not that I heard her, Nor saw how I trembled.

Sunshine or tempest, Desperation or triumph, Come at her summons!