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Rating: 3.7
1.

Indeed I live in the dark ages!
A guileless word is an absurdity. A smooth forehead betokens
A hard heart. He who laughs
Has not yet heard
The terrible tidings.

Ah, what an age it is
When to speak of trees is almost a crime
For it is a kind of silence about injustice!
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COMMENTS
John King 10 February 2019
One of the great poems of its' time.
1 0 Reply

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