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Inconceivably solemn!
Things go gay
Pierce—by the very Press
Of Imagery—
Their far Parades—order on the eye
With a mute Pomp—
A pleading Pageantry—
Flags, are a brave sight—
But no true Eye
Ever went by One—
Steadily—
Music's triumphant—
But the fine Ear
Winces with delight
Are Drums too near—
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem