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"I think that I shall never see A poem lovely as a tree. A tree whose burning mouth is pressed Against the earth's sweet flowin' breast."
A perfect portrait of someone, maybe her, maybe not, but perfect. The one we all occasionally meet, and no one really knows.
"I think that I shall never see A poem lovely as a tree. A tree whose burning mouth is pressed Against the earth's sweet flowin' breast."
A perfect portrait of someone, maybe her, maybe not, but perfect. The one we all occasionally meet, and no one really knows.