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A Sphinx

 Close-mouthed you sat five thousand years and never
let out a whisper.
Processions came by, marchers, asking questions you answered with grey eyes never blinking, shut lips never talking.
Not one croak of anything you know has come from your cat crouch of ages.
I am one of those who know all you know and I keep my questions: I know the answers you hold.

Poem by Carl Sandburg
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