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’Cause I count my blessings, I don’t count my faults
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It’s beauty
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We have escaped the bitterness
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You, said Isaiah.
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Oh, Cloud, sweet scarf of the Moon’s repose. Once more
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“The origin of life / should be as unsurprising
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we kick stones along the lane
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As I came through the desert: Lo you, there,
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To walk abroad is, not with eyes,
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This ecstasy that plants beauty