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“The origin of life / should be as unsurprising
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we kick stones along the lane
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As I came through the desert: Lo you, there,
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To walk abroad is, not with eyes,
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This ecstasy that plants beauty
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Why with the time do I not glance aside
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Rich doldrums / Full of gold
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They dined on mince, and slices of quince,
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as the women harvest the slopes,
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It is hard even to admit this theory of hats, that to wear