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FU YOU

The wings of the ephemera,
Are robes, bright and splendid.
My heart is grieved; --
Would they but come and abide with me!
The wings of the ephemera,
Are robes, variously adorned.
My heart is grieved; --
Would they but come and rest with me!
The ephemera bursts from its hole,
With a robe of hemp like snow.
My heart is grieved; --
Would they but come and lodge with me!
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IATHPublished by The Institute for Advanced Technology in the Humanities, © Copyright 2003 by Anne Kinney and the University of Virginia