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The Joyous Defunct
 Where snails abound—in a juicy soil, I will dig for myself a fathomless grave,
Where at leisure mine ancient bones I can coil,
And sleep—quite forgotten—like a shark 'neath the wave.
 
I hate every tomb—I abominate wills,
And rather than tears from the world to implore,
I would ask of the crows with their vampire bills
To devo............
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