“The place of cure of the soul.”
Millions, clasped beyond Minerva's hall,
While inquisitive and confident hard.
Headed down towards different thoughts;
To giant collections, questions, borders strange.
There stood content's house of three.
In front, moved in cylindrical copyrights,
In round pegs and liquid language totems.
Then the first, unsettled pages in riddles,
In spirals, springs, learning machines.
To the second, summers and archived...
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