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A wither'd waste of sullen day
Wave heavy hands who flit away
To drop into the earth
The wing and what it's worth
I'd say
These fell'd, dead flies abound the floor
Their dead fly meat attracting more
But darker things have died
For things less lack-of-tried
I'm sure
But bit of bone to hang it taut
Went wound the wire fire brought
So sear'd the sudden sun
Did do what we had done
I'll not
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