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" Memory, come tell a fairy tale
About my girl who's lost and gone.
Tell, tell about the golden grail
And bid the swallow, bring her back to me.
Fly close to her and ask her soft and low
If she thinks of me sometimes with love,
If she is well? Ask too before you go
If I am still her dearest, precious dove.
And hurry back, don't lose your way,
So I can think of other things.
But you were too lovely, perhaps, to stay.
I loved you once. Good-bye, my love. "
― , I Never Saw Another Butterfly (One Act)