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The Tree

I wander under the tree,
The linger that abides;
The sap maybe rates quee:
A single among flies,

Just like the birds up there,
Must long for lullabies;
A fingle song more of swear:
The lust of summer songs,

The leaves afloat the shimmering,
The grant on galor's spoke;
Oh, bittering and following:
The breeze under the oak,

The humors lie unduck my head,
The pureth I could be;
The tree was like a remedy:
The lusheth of the sea,

But what would qwigh until a found:
Your truly majesty;
Cry among a lingers' ound:
A token memory.
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