April 2011
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Listen
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The Centaur
The summer that I was ten— Can it be there was only one summer that I was ten? It must have been a long one then— each day I’d go out to choose a fresh horse from my stable which was a willow grove down by the old canal. I’d go on my two bare feet. But when, with my brother’s jack-knife, I had cut me a long limber horse with a good thick knob for a head, and peeled him slick and clean except a few...
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