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StirringsWill the coin become a mine or days remain in happy times the baby teeth will grasp like iron and muscles grow though taciturn the last messiah then should arrive and meet a world of those still wise mumbling prayers or starting a trade and not peturbed by anything subsequent days will be merry meet dense traffic in the city pedestrians trekking in the street silent shoes to shield from heat miracles turn the begging corners from filled with cripples to sweet flowers misery then may disappear or still persist for us to wear the lesssons run into a wind carrying all and their stirrings Poetry Ad-Free Upgrades Vote for this poem
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