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49 MAILMAN The thirst for Life’s west end; The sable goon, Sleep’s elder brother All long for ladder To attaining God’s home gate Is shaggy reality for the incinerator Born of Pol Magpie, The magnate. The goon’s elder sister So sweet, silken Tender and pleasant, Lulls vexations When in her, one himself finds Like a Parisians’ eyes On a quaint yokel. This the private postman octogenates; Deserting enveloped anguish, A box, simian’s In the bank Across. ...

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