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|From Andalusian gardens
I bring the rose and rue,
And leaves of subtle odour,
To weave a gift for you.
You'll know the reason wherefore
The sad is with the sweet;
My flowers may lie, as I would,
A carpet for your feet!
The heart -- the heart is constant;
You first, you last, you
I never see you elsewhere;
You splendid Spaniard!
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