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Having [Once] Read Shakespeare

faulty towers store but what is gained,
’til foundations, once unknown, grow to be
razed by way of fields tilled for grains,
fruits, plucked, ‘stead fallen of’ th’ trees.
same is seen when muted children know
only laughter comes when silence falls
on hands so small, and burdened fingers bow
to stage a crash in cause of Juno’s call.
but a brook, babbling by, a constant grants reason
to this life, and moves us, progeny,
near’ to roots, waiting to show [wo]man seasons,
come and go, can still our leaves.
and how words and wisdoms, best absorbed
through means of life, become our souls.

98

gives and takes stones to as would
any mover of ‘scapes and lands;
and that is these, the sonnets,
plays and particularies of a craft
whose direction knows no compass,
as plates plagued by feet do not,
able more to crush than remain,
though giving be their blessings,
despite mighty winds be follies’ gain,
do words and wisdoms best absorbed through means of life become brains.

The City
Song,

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