Topic: puddles | |
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Admit impediments, love and blank and snow,
when everything is like distant fire, and desire commands… Obey'st thee order of sun; such triumph of guards, lips of us, movements of warm winds upon the other, and I can't finish -- there we were grac'd -- serenity with trees, and night, fancy into nests abandoned and nothing hindereth; at once, exposed, looking in thy sweet instructing thine own thought like a clamorous crimson fire, and I, I melt! |
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puddles
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nice write
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