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Dobbed with chocolate,
a plunket the eye.
Dops the tinkerman's soldier spy. He nestles in so neatly, and folds the paper so cleanly. Does he catch the falling dewdrops, tests the crackling testtubes. Each his own in this field. I broadcast my voice across the empty fairground. And two balloons bounce together, tied to the back of the chair. He who sits there now has an eyeglass. He also twitches his moustache. His eyes meet mine, and they roll about together on the tabletop. Laughing, we strike off together over the grassy hill into the woods.
