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My voice goes after what my eyes cannot reach, With the twirl of my tongue I encompass worlds and volumes of worlds.
I am there, I help, I came stretch'd atop of the load, I felt its soft jolts, one leg reclined on the other, I jump from the cross-beams and seize the clover and timothy, And roll head over heels and tangle my hair spille spil for penge 1 dollar regninger full.
I ascend from the moon, I ascend from the night, I perceive that the ghastly glimmer is noonday sunbeams reflected, And debouch to the steady and central from the offspring great or small.
Root of wash'd sweet-flag!
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No shutter'd room or school can commune with me, But roughs and little children better than they.
40 Flaunt of the sunshine I need not your bask-lie over!
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