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To Preface:
This is a modified villanelle. I know it reads slightly awkward -- that's intentional. If you care about what this poem means, that's something you might meditate on. Thanks for your time!

The Poem:

I might pray in a church of Danby
For the vesper in Sunday’s Best,
And sorrow should still command me;

For the reign of a Satan’s poesy
And my ears so astute struck deaf,
I might pray in a church of Danby --
Then for shame of my faith, unstudied,
Though humanity’s coalesced,
And sorrow should still command me.

Ev’ry day that my cheeks are rosy,
Ev’ry eve that I shift my breast,
I might pray in a church of Danby --
But my heart is not strong as steely
And my hate is as cold as death,
And sorrow should still command me.

I forget that my life is easy,
As I certainly should, unless
I might pray in a church of Danby,
And my sorrow should still command.

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