The Hopples Fall From Your Ankle

The poem is called 'What men on the beach at night alone' and costs 80 pence. There are just a few lines left, then i'm going to release you to read the whole of it. The last line threw anges, losses, ambition, ignorance, ene what you are picks its way. You find an unfailing sufficiency that was always there, but you just couldn't see b cause you don't have the super poet ex ray vision. Old or young, male or female,. Rude low, rejected by the rest, whatever you are premulges itself. And thit is the same root as prom gate. It makes itself nown. No more