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The Tortoise in Eternity

 Within my house of patterned horn 
I sleep in such a bed 
As men may keep before they're born 
And after when they're dead.
Sticks and stones may break their bones, And words may make them bleed; There is not one of them who owns An armour to his need.
Tougher than hide or lozenged bark, Snow-storm and thunder proof, And quick with sun, and thick with dark, Is this my darling roof.
Men's troubled dreams of death and birth Puls mother-o'-pearl to black; I bear the rainbow bubble Earth Square on my scornful back.

by Elinor Wylie
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