Dublin City 1 Shels 3
¶ 1
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Circling the earth with a stoic persistence,
We haven’t much concept of lunar existence.
Acres and acres of featureless earth,
Lifeless and pockmarked and barren from birth.
Curving through space in a monotone arc,
Rhythmically turning, so silent and dark,
Lonely and sad in its predestined flight –
More atmosphere there than in Tolka tonight.
¶ 2
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Which, all things considered, was rather a shame,
For I thought it was really a very good game.
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