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Sometimes I can almost see, around our heads, Like gnats around a streetlight in summer, The children we could have, The glimmer of them.
Sometimes I feel them waiting, dozing In some antechamber - servants, half- Listening for the bell.
Sometimes I can almost see, around our heads, Like gnats around a streetlight in summer, The children we could have, The glimmer of them.
Sometimes I feel them waiting, dozing In some antechamber - servants, half- Listening for the bell.
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