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TROY POEM We, Occasioned by the eye, To look And looking down Saw that your city was not Troy. Oh, Merry Greeks, We bear our fathers on our backs And burdened thus We kiss your city. Neither At foot or eye Do we taste Ruined Troy Which was our mother. Oh, Merry Greeks, When you embrace us We, bending, thus Pray against you: “Rise From our absent city Tough as smoke— Oh, Flesh of Hector, Rescue us.” Spicer: My Vocabulary Did This to Me page 21 21 ...

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