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The Art of Singing |
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He ate and drank the precious words,
His spirit grew robust;
He knew no more that he was poor,
Nor that his frame was dust.
He danced along the dingy days,
And this bequest of wings
Was but a book. What liberty
A loosened spirit brings! | | —Emily Dickinson | Read More
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| Additional
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| No.
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382 |
| Posted
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9 June, 2006 |
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