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Though not, I say, a star of death and sin,It yet has poles, and only needs a spinTo show its worldly nature and begin
To chafe and shuffle in my calloused palmAnd run off in strange tangents with my armAs fish do with the line in first alarm.
Such as it is, it promises the prizeOf the one world complete in any sizeThat I am like to compass, fool or wise.
The Yale ReviewRobert Frost


NORAH EN DE ARK
I wisht dat I wuz Norah a-sailin' in de Ark,A-sailin', sailin', sailin' fur away.He heerd his Massa callin' him, a-callin' thoo the dark,A-callin', callin', callin' all de day.Norah he wuz righeous, en de Lawd He say, sezee,"Go mek yerse'f a dwellin'-place en ride upon de sea."En Norah say, perlitely, "You done right ter pick on me,"En he hammer, hammer, hammer w'ile he pray.
Gawd He walk' wid Norah,E'n Norah walk' wid Gawd.In de coolness ob de ev'nin' timeNorah walk' wid Gawd.
De Lawd he says ter Norah, "Mek dat Ark o'goopher wood,En hammer, hammer, hammer wid yer might,En black it up wid pitch 'n' tar, en waterproof it good,En hammer, hammer, hammer ha'd en tight.Go mek it fifty cupids wide en t'irty cupids high,En mek it monst'us long er e'se I'll know de reason w'y;

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