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Despair is the thing with scales; a Copy Poem

"Despair" is the thing with scales - 
That leeches on the heart - 
And whispers a secret without the proof - 
And never ceases - an art - 
 
And foulest - in the Peal - is felt - 
And sour must be the tongue - 
That could entice the fatal Snake 
That ended many old and young - 
 
I've seen it in the greenest place - 
And on the most heavenly Cay - 
Yet - even - in Ecstasy, 
It demanded acknowledgment - of me. 
 






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