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loneliness

Trapped In...

Trapped in...

The Violent Daylight
On my drowsy head
I hear The Morning Melody
Of a bird singing in the dew
April breeze dancing on the leaves
I start putting on my dress
With a daint

Most blest is he

Most blest is he who in the morning time
Sets forth upon his journey with no staff
Shaped by another for his use. Who sees
The imminent necessity for toil,

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