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The Yale Literary Magazine (Vol. LXXXVIII, No. 8, May 1923)

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I will go into the city of tired eyes, And tell my thoughts to each pedestrian, And on its towers, beneath its leaden skies, Inscribe a little message for all men. And few shall read its modest letters there, And none of them shall ever understand, Yet all I will perform, nor greatly care, For I may not be long within the land. D. G. CARTER.

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