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Farewell, you cheerful folk of France,
My brethren’s merry throng,
A foolish nostalgia drives me hence,
I’ll be back, though, before long.
Imagine—I yearn beyond belief
For the smell of heather and…
He was home from the East, this pilgrim.
He had left to seek a perfumed flower
that Solomon, whose hands grew dark
from constant prayers for beauty,
had planted in the gardens of En Gedi,
fashioned…