It's past midnight now, and I feel rememberances of summer nights years and yesterdays ago. All brought back by that elusive scent.
"Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.
`Wretch,' I cried, `thy God hath lent thee - by these angels he has sent thee
Respite - respite and nepenthe from thy memories..."
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