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Sing sorrow

For me, for me!

Sing for the Great City,

That falleth, falleth to be

A shadow, a fire departed.

Come to me, O my lover!

The dark shroudeth him over,

My flesh, woman, not thine, not thine!

Make of thine arms my cover!

O thou whose wound was deepest,

Thou that my children keepest,

Priam, Priam, O age-worn King,

Gather me where thou sleepest.

O here is the deep of desire,

(How? And is this not woe?)

For a city burned with fire;

(It beateth, blow on blow.)

God's wrath for Paris, thy son, that he died not long ago:

Who sold for his evil love

Troy and the towers thereof:

Therefore the dead men lie

Naked, beneath the eye