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At the birth of the day |
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As a babe of the spray |
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Like a white star, tangled and far, |
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Tulip that's what you are. |
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Warm and wise as a mute |
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In the thunderbolt suit |
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Princely and torn, grasping the horn |
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Of the maenads of May. |
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Sleepy dreaming of dark |
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Silver Satyrs in parks |
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Statues that say, worship the day |
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For only humans you are. |
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Channels churning the grime |
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Inky dreams of our time |
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Into the Sun, where the white one |
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Poems them into a rhyme. |
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On a hill the clear shrill |
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Made the Titans most ill |
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Angels abound, and |
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I'm kissing the ground |
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Thrilled to be around |
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Vineyards spangled with love |
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For the white dove above |
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Green and lean from the waste |
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Of the pastures of chaste |
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Preciously he is whole. |
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Twinkled eyes like a king |
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Charted seas on your skin |
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Like a White Star, tangled and far, |
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Tulip that's what you are. |