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The nymph steals the farm-son (Sonnet) by <~>

Before I captured you, you sought meat and bread and peace. My turnings bade you cease seeking solitude that old life brought. I swept the earth stippling stubble in grooves and chains of dance; moved your heart to gambol, stole you from your ramble, melted you, stubborn man. You spied my moves and judged my worth, left behind hoe and plow and dwell with me, now.

Dovina 21-Oct-05/11:22 AM
"phantoms of future turn wooden on the lathe of fact." !!!




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