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Till her calm grey eye
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Skin feathered over bone
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to stand each is up against emptiness
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You see how it works. In this my garden aspires
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Mule-bray, pig-grunt and bawdy cackles
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Take all of nature, its one vast aggregate —
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Consider the allergen poems lush with honeysuckle and/or hyacinth
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He’s pointing to the sky
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bodies in morning light,
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Nor praise the deep vermilion in the rose;