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Make what you will of this gift.
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There was another silence
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that sounds like someone’s rough fingers weaving
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The winter web, the winter woven, wind and wind,
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back to the bright sea
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rode the gondola up the mountain
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When you appeared it was as if
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The wind is its own / kind of chaos,
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Your duty is to enlist as a faithful footman,
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Now the skyline is inside me