A Muse, a Nymph, of old is the search, for your beauty has
roots in the rivers and stream, the forest and woods. Your presence is needed
with the goddesses you attend. Long have you been on the hunt. Your laughter
and song still echoes in the hills, yet your shadow has forever left.
Oh mistress of shadows where a upon do you set.
My canvas are empty, my dreams a mist.
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