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						The Lake Isle by Ezra Pound 
						
						O God, O Venus, O Mercury, patron of thieves,  Give me in due time, I beseech you, a little tobacco-shop,  With the little bright boxes piled up neatly upon the shelves And the loose fragment cavendish and the shag,  And the bright Virginia loose under the bright glass cases,  And a pair of scales not too greasy,  And the votailles dropping in for a word or two in passing,  For a flip word, and to tidy their hair a bit. 
  O God, O Venus, O Mercury, patron of thieves,  Lend me a little tobacco-shop,  or install me in any profession Save this damn'd profession of writing,  where one needs one's brains all the time.						 
						
						
						
						
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