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“In June we picked the clover, And sea-shells in July: There was no silence at the door, No word from the sky. A hand came out of August And flicked his life away: We had not time to bargain, mope, Moralize, or pray.” — Cecil Day-Lewis
In June we picked the clover,
And sea-shells in July:
There was no silence at the door,
No word from the sky.
A hand came out of August
And flicked his life away:
We had not time to bargain, mope,
Moralize, or pray.