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Poem	ONE sweeps by, attended by an immense train, All emblematic of peace—not a soldier or menial among them. One sweeps by, old, with black eyes, and profuse white hair, He has the simple magnificence of health and strength, His face strikes as with flashes of lightning whoever it turns toward. Three old men slowly pass, followed by three others, and they by three others, They are beautiful—the one in the middle of each group holds his companions by the hand, As they walk, they give out perfume wherever they walk.
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