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Against the sunset, two snipes go to the west
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The Bloom, nebulous, not visible in the window
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A Winter Day
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Cup's Primitivism
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Sickly Face at the Bottom of the Ground
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Forbidding My Sister Sake
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Late Fall
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A Summer Afternoon
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The Year you turned sixty you resigned your post
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"I'm tired of children!"—to anyone who says that
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