The muses become mourners.
Oh muse!
May I console? May I console a tear among you?
Even at first action we are rent
and scrapped for naught
& I know more
than I can pour
into the thimble brim
of my account!
Oh muse!
May I console? May I console a tear among you?
Even at first action we are rent
and scrapped for naught
& I know more
than I can pour
into the thimble brim
of my account!
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