Huh. This could have prevented a couple thousand wall- and floor-inflicted injuries at our house a couple years ago:
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Children's voices in the orchard
Between the blossom- and the fruit-time:
Golden head, crimson head,
Between the green tip and the root.
Black wing, brown wing, hover over;
Twenty years and the spring is over;
To-day grieves, to-morrow grieves,
Cover me over, light-in-leaves;
Golden head, black wing,
Cling, swing,
Spring, sing,
Swing up into the apple-tree.
--T.S. Eliot
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I mean, you do have to wonder what a "stuga" is, especially a little red one.
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