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nine
There are many things of which I could write
Love, Time, Hope, Poetry, another five just in spite
Two of these prevail in almost all my work
To write again about them I’d be a jerk
Nine the goal seems in a way very vain
But word after word I write again and again
Look keeping a form is nothing new to me
For sonnet after sonnet did I write almost exclusively
This Nine by Nine structure I have completed evenly
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