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Saddled but riderless, reins dragging on the pavement,
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What old December’s bareness everywhere!
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a kind of filler / made either
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The cost of flight is landing.
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And in the dream
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Awake! Give thyself to the lovely hours.
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Some sleet fell
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We turned our backs against the bitter wind,
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“Do I get to be Marilyn Monroe?” you asked,
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We are the lords of life, and life is warm.