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Vachel Lindsay - The Moon`s The North Wind`s Cooky
Work rating: Low

The Moon`s the North Wind`s cooky.
He bites it, day by day,
Until there`s but a rim of scraps
That crumble all away.

The South Wind is a baker.
He kneads clouds in his den,
And bakes a crisp new moon that . . . greedy 
North . . . Wind . . . eats . . . again!
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