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The beauty haunts me heart and soul,O thou fair moon,so close and bright;Thy beauty makes me like the childThat cries aloud to own thy light:The little child that lifts each armTo press thee to her bosom warm.
The beauty haunts me heart and soul,O thou fair moon,so close and bright;Thy beauty makes me like the childThat cries aloud to own thy light:The little child that lifts each armTo press thee to her bosom warm.