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And one of her loves was a wizard,
a rhymer of light and death,
and though she knew
his chances were few,
she loved him with every breath.
And one of her loves was a soldier,
a hero throughout the land,
who sighed and pined,
but never could find,
the courage to ask for her hand.
And one of her loves was a king's son,
who bloomed like the swan once gray.
His wings, spread wide,
brushed his rivals aside,
and carried him off with the day.
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- Mindrell the Bard