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1527

Oh give it Motion—deck it sweet
With Artery and Vein—
Upon its fastened Lips lay words—
Affiance it again
To that Pink stranger we call Dust—
Acquainted more with that
Than with this horizontal one
That will not lift its Hat—

Edited by Peter Carter

Added: 2 Apr 2003 | Last Read: 22 Nov 2008 9:23 PM | Viewed: 5061 times

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