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  • The Cry of Eyre
    222 6 1

    "would that i, devil am i, made so as not to cry in the wailing of soil? devil am i, destined to pry decaying hands of the wrought and coiled? the howling hymn of her grievances mourning, soiled love by the free, "call on me, sweet lover in me, the temptress of man's calamity" she cries the diatribe of unshakable...