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LVIII
Let all the strains of joy mingle in my last
song | the joy that makes the
earth flow over in the riotous excess of the
grass, the joy that sets the twin brothers, life and death, dancing
over the wide world, the joy that sweeps in with the tempest,
shaking and waking all life with laughter, the joy that sits still
with its tears on the open red lotus of pain, and the joy that
throws everything it has upon the dust, and knows not a word.
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