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Poem	I know a place where Summer strives With such a practised Frost -- She -- each year -- leads her Daisies back -- Recording briefly -- "Lost" -- But when the South Wind stirs the Pools And struggles in the lanes -- Her Heart misgives Her, for Her Vow -- And she pours soft Refrains Into the lap of Adamant -- And spices -- and the Dew -- That stiffens quietly to Quartz -- Upon her Amber Shoe --
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