< Page:Poems of Rainer Maria Rilke (1918).djvu
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The Book of Poverty and Death
Her mouth is like the mouth of a fine bust
That cannot utter sound, nor breathe, nor kiss.
But that had once from Life received all this
Which shaped its subtle curves, and ever must
From fullness of past knowledge dwell alone,
A thing apart, a parable in stone.
63
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