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Classic and Contemporary Poetry
WAIT, by EMIL BOTTA
First Line: The curse of the poor falls on the trees
Last Line: There will be no quenching the thirst at that %fountain and no limit to the sadness of autumn leaves
First Line: The curse of the poor falls on the trees
Last Line: There will be no quenching the thirst at that %fountain and no limit to the sadness of autumn leaves
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