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Literature Text
A vorpal blade,
Neither here nor there,
Cutting through the glade,
Balanced perfectly in the air.
Rustling leaves,
Cheeks sliced frigid,
Through the crowd it weaves,
Each step timid.
Neither here nor there,
Cutting through the glade,
Balanced perfectly in the air.
Rustling leaves,
Cheeks sliced frigid,
Through the crowd it weaves,
Each step timid.
Anyone getting the C. S. Lewis reference? 
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