Were I to keep treading as I had before,
Blindly, feeling not the wonder nor ardor,
Would I be less excited? Yes, I'm sure.
But sits here one who's struck by your splendor.
At first alarm was there, fear of your depth,
Intoxication exposed my damage,
And you witnessed what was rare as I wept.
Then came ponderance of your passages.
The comfort and the
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