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Sunday, December 6, 2009
Spearesques 11
That weight of worry shields me not from surprise assault
But burdens as would cuirass plate leadening the heart.
If care were gems, this manor would be a mine's hall, sparkling,
From which servitors might ferry ore, bright like stars,
Reflection from the heavens, for assay
And win fame for this house among those
Who account a man in what he can count in coin.
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Labels:
culture,
existentialist,
poem
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