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Out Of Ones Tree

I used to climb so high Those trees that boughed Unimportant limbs to Mere twiglets that seemed Were always budding. How I loved the woods and how Heaths heathers blether now. Blether now. When nature flowed Next to my beck Something sang to me Louder than a lamphrey And I knew fish didn't talk Much but still kept to the bees.
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Written by
infinitetune
English
Published
Mar 7, 2012
Lines·Words
15·61
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