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do i chase the substance or the shadow?

will it hold?
i have no sorcerer's malison on me,
no ghostly hauntings like his highness. i
flatter myself that always everywhere
i know the substance when i see it. well,
are castles shadows? three of them? is she
the sweet proprietress a shadow? if not,
shall those three castles patch my tattered coat?
for dear are those three castles to my wants,
and dear is sister psyche to my heart,
and two dear things are one of double worth,
and much i might have said, but that my zone
unmanned me: then the doctors! o to hear
the doctors! o to watch the thirsty plants
imbibing! once or twice i thought to roar,
to break my chain, to shake my mane: but thou,
modulate me, soul of mincing mimicry!
make liquid treble of that bassoon, my throat;
abase those eyes that ever loved to meet
star-sisters answering under crescent brows;
abate the stride, which speaks of man, and loose
a flying charm of blushes o'er this cheek,
where they like swallows coming out of time
will wonder why they came: but hark the bell
for dinner, let us go!'

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wabbit season
jones_casey
cleaning up so well

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