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514

Her smile was shaped like other smiles—
The Dimples ran along—
And still it hurt you, as some Bird
Did hoist herself, to sing,
Then recollect a Ball, she got—
And hold upon the Twig,
Convulsive, while the Music broke—
Like Beads—among the Bog—

Added: 19 Aug 2002 | Last Read: 7 Jun 2025 4:53 PM | Viewed: 7764 times

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