"In loneliness,
That the smoke at least
Will not desert me
I gather brushwood and feed the flames
In this winter mountain home."
"...No cur
That sniffs the distant bear, and sneaks downcast
With craven tail and miscreant trepidation
To kennel and to collar, could slink home
With a more prone abasement."
--The Roman
Offer me something, π½πͺπ©Έπ.
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