
Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling, By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore, „Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,“ I said, „art sure no craven,
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Who never🇬🇴🆂🧙♀️ strewing🫳🏻 its own 𓇢Seeds, see🪬'em germinating🌱, becoming🪴 ancient🧙♂️🌲Giants🌳, will ∞never🤔🧠understand💡the Magic🪄beyond♾️.⚘⋆˚