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Spices and gold once cast a spellOn bearded men in caravels.
New World New World cried historyOld World Old World sighed every tree.
Thomas Farynor, Baker to the King,Left his oven burning with the firewood nearby.The embers muttered, the little flames took wing
In the beginning was the wordand the word is ours:
the names of places,the names of flowers,the name of names,words are ours.