'Tis whiter than an Indian Pipe -
'Tis dimmer than a Lace -
No stature has it, like a Fog
When you approach the place -
Nor any voice imply it here
Or intimate it there
A spirit - how doth it accost -
What function hath the Air?
This limitless Hyperbole
Each one of us shall be -
'Tis Drama - if Hypothesis
It be not Tragedy
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