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89 the​door It​seemed​as​if​a​door​came​calling, in​a​voice​as​old​as​carols, telling​lies​as​old​as​candles, in​words​that​were​all​about some​afternoons,​lost​on​a​child, that​could​have​been​simple​but were​lost,​when​I​was​just​a​child. There​was​a​day​and​then​a​dream that​I​went​through,​and​a​cathedral whose​tall​choir​prayed a​singing​message​through​the​nave until​I​heard​a​forest​there (though​far​outside,​the​trees​were​bare) ...

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