The Garden of Proserpine part five - Algernon Charles Swinburne

This quote was added by eli6093
Pale, without name or number, In fruitless fields of corn, They bow themselves and slumber All night till light is born; And like a soul belated, In hell and heaven unmated, By cloud and mist abated Comes out of darkness morn.

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umvard 12 years, 10 months ago
This is why you shouldn't try to put stanzas in with spaces. :(

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Name WPM Accuracy
eventlogging 170.00 100%
bossbambi22 79.25 97.5%
silverlegend 77.48 98.7%
dutchman13 76.82 96.2%
user18118 70.01 97.1%
beanzz21 69.78 98.7%
user16460 65.80 96.2%
umvard 65.35 95.4%
forgod2388 63.58 96.6%
user18119 63.09 97.1%

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