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Strife be the zephyrous wind blow
And might it be that we shall know
Best be for mankind to stoop low
Before we are battered by what they sow
Ominous ye the feeling fill'd your head
Those murky thoughts had yet to fled
Hypochondria no soon have your head red
Sad truths shall be what you have their fed
Lo and behold the ghostly wind
Cloudfully gaze you clouds they find
The sky ain't no blue or white but unkind
No sooner your body and thoughts confined
Black and dreary the upcoming day
As nobody you have none to say
But lie down and imagine the fay
Until something shine into your face a ray
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