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Having walked the tight-lipped Jersey streets,
A house to every inward-turning love,
Peaceful, neat, above all else secure,
Pausing, I am ravished by their beauty.
Years will tell the stories of these streets;
Each house, the joy of its secluded love,
As children come and go, indulged, secure,
Singed or not by life's most awesome beauty.
There is no quarter on these death-strewn streets,
Each house the scene of terror, pain, and love,
Redeemed alone by the passion of its beauty.
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