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    A Vision

    by Oscar Wilde
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    Two crowned Kings, and One that stood alone
    With no green weight of laurels round his head,
    But with sad eyes as one uncomforted,
    And wearied with man's never-ceasing moan
    For sins no bleating victim can atone,
    And sweet long lips with tears and kisses fed.
    Girt was he in a garment black and red,
    And at his feet I marked a broken stone
    Which sent up lilies, dove-like, to his knees.
    Now at their sight, my heart being lit with flame,
    I cried to Beatrice, 'Who are these?'
    And she made answer, knowing well each name,
    'AEschylos first, the second Sophokles,
    And last (wide stream of tears!) Euripides.'
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