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#11 |
La Belle Dame sans Merci
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Once upon a cold November, while I ventured to remember,
The many quaint and curious demands of the mods of yours-- When I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my iChat door. "'Tis my Nienna," I muttered, "tapping at my iChat door-- telling me to rhyme some more."
__________________
peace
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