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FRAGMENT: ‘I STOOD UPON A HEAVEN-CLEAVING TURRET’.

I stood upon a heaven-cleaving turret Which overlooked a wide Metropolis— And in the temple of my heart my Spirit Lay prostrate, and with parted lips did kiss The dust of Desolations [altar] hearth— And with a voice too faint to falter It shook that trembling fane with its weak prayer ’Twas noon,—the sleeping skies were blue The city

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