554eb505f8
of the x11 based games. I'm not going to tag the originals with bsd_44_lite and do this in two stages since it's just not worth it for this collection, and I've got directory renames to deal with that way. Bleah. Submitted by: jkh
185 lines
5.8 KiB
Plaintext
185 lines
5.8 KiB
Plaintext
Come live with me and be my love:\
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And we will all the pleasures prove:\
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{The }Passionate Shepherd{ to his Love}:\
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{Christopher }Marlowe
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Shall I compare thee to a summer's day{?}:\
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Thou art more lovely and more temperate:\
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Sonnet 18:\
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{William }Shakespeare
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Fine knacks for ladies, cheap, choice, brave, and new!:\
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Good pennyworths{! }but money cannot move:\
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Fine Knacks{ for Ladies}:\
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{John }Dowland
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My mind to me a kingdom is:\
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Such perfect joy therein I find:\
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My Mind to Me a Kingdom Is:\
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{Sir }{Edward }Dyer
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Underneath this stone doth lie:\
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As much beauty as could die:\
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Epitaph on Elizabeth{,} {L. H.}:\
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{Ben }Jonson
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Death be not proud, though some have called thee:\
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Mighty and dreadful{,} for thou art not so:\
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{Holy }Sonnet{s}{ 10}:\
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{John }Donne
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Gather ye rose-buds while ye may:\
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Old Time is still a-flying:\
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To the Virgins{,} {To Make Much of Time}:\
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{Robert }Herrick
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Why so pale and wan, fond lover?:\
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Prithee{,} why so pale{?}:\
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Song:\
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{Sir }{John }Suckling
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Stone walls do not a prison make:\
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Nor iron bars a cage:\
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To Althea{,} From Prison:\
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{Richard }Lovelace
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I could not love thee (Dear) so much,:\
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Lov['|e]d I not hono{u}r more:\
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To Lucasta{, Going to the Wars}:\
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{Richard }Lovelace
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I saw Eternity the other night:\
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Like a great ring of pure and endless light:\
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{The }World:\
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{Henry }Vaughan
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Come and trip it as you go,:\
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On the light fantastic toe:\
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L'Allegro:\
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{John }Milton
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When I consider how my light is spent:\
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Ere half my days in this dark world and wide:\
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On His Blindness|When I Consider:\
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{John }Milton
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The grave's a fine and private place{,}:\
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But none{,} I think{,} do there embrace{.}:\
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To His Coy Mistress:\
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{Andrew }Marvel
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Great wits are sure to madness near allied:\
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And thin partitions do their bounds divide:\
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Absalom and Achitophel|Absalom:\
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{John }Dryden
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A little learning is a dangerous thing{;}:\
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Drink deep{,} or taste not the Pierian spring{.}:\
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{An }Essay on Criticism|{On }Criticism:\
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{Alexander }Pope
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The curfew tolls the knell of parting day{,}:\
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The lowing herd wind slowly o'er the lea:\
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Elegy{ Written in a Country Church{-| }Yard:\
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{Thomas }Gray
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The best laid schemes o' mice an' men gang aft a-gley{,}:\
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An{'|d} lea{'|v}e us nought but grief an{'|d} pain for promised joy{.}:\
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To a Mouse:\
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{Robert }Burns
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Tiger! tiger! burning bright!:\
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In the forests of the night:\
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{The }Tiger:\
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{William }Blake
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My heart leaps up when I behold:\
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A rainbow in the sky:\
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My Heart Leaps Up:\
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{William }Wordsworth
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The world is too much with us; late and soon{,}:\
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Getting and spending{,} we lay waste our powers:\
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{The }World is Too Much With Us|Sonnet:\
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{William }Wordsworth
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A sadder and a wiser man{,}:\
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He rose the morrow morn:\
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{The }{Rime of }{The }Ancient Mariner:\
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{Samuel }{Taylor }Coleridge
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In Xanadu did Kubla Khan:\
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A stately pleasure{-| }dome decree:\
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Kubla Khan:\
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{Samuel }{Taylor }Coleridge
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She walks in beauty, like the night:\
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Of cloudless climes and starry skies:\
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She Walks in Beauty:\
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{George Gordon, }{Lord }Byron
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I want a hero- an uncommon want{,}:\
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When every year and month sends forth a new one:\
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Don Juan{ Canto I}:\
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{George Gordon, }{Lord }Byron
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A thing of beauty is a joy forever.:\
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Its loveliness increases{;|.} {it will never/Pass into nothingness}:\
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Endymion{ Book I}:\
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{John }Keats
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Matched with an aged wife, I mete and dole:\
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Unequal laws unto a savage race:\
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Ulysses:\
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{Alfred{,} }{Lord }Tennyson
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He will hold thee, when his passion shall have spent its novel force{,}:\
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Something better than his dog{,} a little dearer than his horse:\
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Locksley Hall:\
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{Alfred{,} }{Lord }Tennyson
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'Tis better to have loved and lost:\
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Than never to have loved at all:\
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{In }Memoriam{ A. H. H.}:\
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{Alfred{,} }{Lord }Tennyson
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Kind hearts are more than coronets,:\
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And simple faith than Norman blood{.}:\
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Lady Clara Vere de Vere:\
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{Alfred{,} }{Lord }Tennyson
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Oh, to be in England:\
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Now that April's there:\
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Home{-| }Thoughts{,} From Abroad:\
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{Robert }Browning
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Ah, but a man's reach should exceed his grasp{,}:\
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Or what's a heaven for{?}:\
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Andrea Del Sarto:\
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{Robert }Browning
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How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.:\
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I love thee to the depth and breadth and height:\
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Sonnet{s} {From the Portuguese}{ 43}:\
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{Elizabeth }{Barrett }Browning
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A Book of Verses underneath the Bough{,}:\
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A Jug of Wine, a Loaf of Bread{-|,| }and Thou:\
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{The }Rubaiyat{ of Omar Khayyam}{ 12}:\
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{Edward }Fitzgerald
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The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ,:\
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Moves on{\:|,|.} nor all your Piety nor Wit:\
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{The }Rubaiyat{ of Omar Khayyam}{ 71}:\
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{Edward }Fitzgerald
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Ah Love! could you and I with Him conspire:\
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To grasp this sorry Scheme of Things entire:\
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{The }Rubaiyat{ of Omar Khayyam}{ 99}:\
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{Edward }Fitzgerald
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Remember me when I am gone away,:\
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Gone far away into the silent land:\
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Remember:\
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{Christina }Rossetti
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Home is the sailor, home from the sea,:\
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And the hunter home from the hill:\
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Requiem:\
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{Robert }{Louis }Stevenson
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I fled Him, down the nights and down the days;:\
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I fled Him, down the arches of the years:\
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{The }Hound of Heaven:\
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{Francis }Thompson
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So 'ere's to you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, at your 'ome in the Soudan;:\
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You're a {pore|poor} benighted {'|h}eathen but a first class fightin{'|g} man:\
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Fuzzy{-| }Wuzzy:\
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{Rudyard }Kipling
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Morns abed and daylight slumber:\
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Were not meant for man alive:\
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Reveille:\
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{A{.}{ }E{.}{ }}Houseman
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I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,:\
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And a small cabin build there{,} of clay and wattles made:\
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{The }{Lake Isle of }Innisfree:\
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{William }{Butler }Yeats
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I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,:\
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And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by:\
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Sea{-| }Fever:\
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{John }Masefield
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April is the cruelest month, breeding:\
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Lilacs out of the dead land:\
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{The }Waste{ }Land:\
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{T{.}{ }S{.}{ }}Eliot
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Now as I was young and easy under the apple boughs:\
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About the little house and happy as the grass was green:\
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Fern Hill:\
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{Dylan }Thomas
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Of Man's first disobedience, and the fruit:\
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Of that forbidden tree{,} whose mortal taste:\
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Paradise Lost:\
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{John }Milton
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