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Poem	At the last minute a word is waiting not heard that way before and not to be repeated or ever be remembered one that always had been a household word used in speaking of the ordinary everyday recurrences of living not newly chosen or long considered or a matter for comment afterward who would ever have thought it was the one saying itself from the beginning through all its uses and circumstances to utter at last that meaning of its own for which it had long been the only word though it seems now that any word would do
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