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The New Faces
| If you, that have grown old, were the first dead, | | Neither catalpa tree nor scented lime | | Should hear my
living feet, nor would I tread | | Where we wrought that shall break the teeth of Time. | | Let the new faces
play what tricks they will | | In the old rooms; night can outbalance day, | | Our shadows rove the garden gravel
still, | | The living seem more shadowy than they. |
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By PanEris
using Melati.
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