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Lo, and I have discovered
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Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
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My ambition to be done with ambition
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The purpose of poetry is to remind us
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a gilded mote on blue velvet—
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There were many winters but I closed my eyes
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The regardless of stars, we gaze yet at them.
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different from heaven, being
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… She carried a basket
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let seven men touch your poem.
