Canto
1    21|    autumn most its natural moisture dries,~And strips the fluttering
2    23|  barred each natural vent,~Moisture for tears, or utterance
3    23|    rose my pain.~The vital moisture rushing to my eyes,~Driven
4    25| his wearied might~In balmy moisture, from a branch imbued~With
5    32|  most the thirsty plant of moisture drains,~The weak and wasting
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