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Reply to Passing in Review

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Upon a snow-wrapped solitude,
I love to watch the crowds go by
Through a dark wood,
Just common folk the same as I.

When trees fanned the golden air,
The glad and the sad,
With visions vast and fair
The good and the bad.

In something always past the goal,
A worker is so strong,
To find a willing and able soul
It may pass along.

He has no place to lay his head,
And here is a dog,
In every land a constant lamp
He will lightly jog.


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