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A thrush in the syringa sings.
`Hunger ruffles my wings, fear,
lust, familiar things.
Death thrusts hard. My sons
by hawk's beak, by stones, by cat and weasel, die.
From a shaken bush I
list familiar things,
fear, hunger, lust.'
O gay thrush!
Basil Bunting,
Basil Bunting,
Basil Bunting.
The
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posted by y2karl
on Nov 9, 2002 -
27 comments
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