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October, and Other Poems; with Occasional Verses on the War

Έτώσιον ἄχθος ἀρούρης

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Who goes there? God knows. I’m nobody. How should I answer? Can’t jump over a gate nor run across the meadow. I’m but an old whitebeard of inane identity. Pass on! What’s left of me to-day will very soon be nothing.

Explore with AITake your curiosity a little further.

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