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'Tis whiter than an Indian Pipe -- 'Tis dimmer than a Lace -- No stature has it, like a Fog When you approach the place -- Nor any voice imply it here Or intimate it there A spirit -- how doth it accost -- What function hat the Air? This limitless Hyperbole Each one of us shall be -- 'Tis Drama -- if Hypothesis It be not Tragedy --
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