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And by a prudent flight and cunning save A life which valour could not, from the grave. A better buckler I can soon regain, But who can get another life again? Archilochus

Friday, June 19, 2026

Dreaming Upon a Midsommar Night...

A Poem Written by a Google AI for this Festive Occasion:
Thou knavish Puck, with purple juice, dost blind the mortal sight,
Wherewith the foolish lovers dote upon the fleeting night.
Sweet Bottom, crowned with long-eared ass, enjoys a queen’s embrace,
While silly swains do run amok and mar their proper grace.
They trip, they fall, they cry aloud, by elvish sport beguiled,
And wake to find their frantic woes were but a vision wild.
— Robin Goodfellow


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