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1236

Like Time's insidious wrinkle
On a beloved Face
We clutch the Grace the tighter
Though we resent the crease

The Frost himself so comely
Dishevels every prime
Asserting from his Prism
That none can punish him

Edited by Peter Carter

Added: 2 Apr 2003 | Last Read: 7 Sep 2008 6:43 AM | Viewed: 4922 times

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