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And so I say to you now
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Night, stop writing your name in silver ink on the dark brown paper.
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I can measure
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But some bonuses, like morning,
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Sometimes, when the light strikes at odd angles
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take down the clouds
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and in the silent, sometimes hardly moving times
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Even now, when the plot
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The greatness of it throbs from sun to sun;
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We wake ourselves not knowing we’ve been asleep,
