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Ezra Pound - Tempora
Work rating: Low

Io! Io! Tamuz!
The Dryad staiids in my court-yard
With plaintive, querulous crying.
(Tamuz. Io! Tamuz!)
Oh, no, she is not crying: `Tamuz.`
She says, `May my poems be printed this week?
The god Pan is afraid to ask you,
May my poems be printed this week?`
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