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The toad road licked my wheels like a sabre Winds of the marsh lightly blew Stonejars stacked with stars on her shoulders Hunters of pity she slew. Chariots of Silk she rode Stallions of gold she owned. A mad Mage with a maid on his eyebrows Hunteth the realm for a God Who could teach him the craft of decanting The glassy entrails of a frog. The Bard of my birth with his ballet