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OZYMANDIAS
I met a traveller from an antique land
who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand,
half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown
and wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command
tell that its sculptor well those passions read,
which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things;
the
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I like it for a few reasons:
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FUDGE.
Oh fudge, you wond'rous crumbly sweet delight
that tempts men's fancies through and often through;
your soft and supple texture mine to bite
and if not melt in mouth, then softly chew.
In flavours many you present yourself!
Vanilla, rum and raisin, chocolate too.
I cannot leave you sitting on the shelf
for risk you'll melt into a sticky goo.
To masticate on creamier stuff cannot
be done, for where would such a thing be found?
We must not let such glory start to rot,
so come, let's buy it all up by the pound!
Oh fudge, may angels sing of you on high,
and be in heaven for me when I die.
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