| Still much to read, but too late |
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| Speaking and speaking again words like silver bubbles |
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| Permit me to warn you |
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| I have not even been in the fields |
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| Her kindliness is like the sun |
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| His mother stepped about her kitchen, complaining in a low voice |
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| Rooted among roofs, their smoke among the clouds |
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| The Baby woke with curved, confiding fingers |
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| On the counter were red slabs and rolls of beef |
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| April |
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