His whole
Life like this
The church mouse
Might find
Some measure of bliss
In staring through
Glass so beautifully stained
To suffer from clearly
Self-inflicted pain
A nod from the nun
Whose cheese he desires
A drop of some wine
That so often inspires
Standing on tip toe
To peep over the lip
Into a world
He might never live
Life being a dream
Or so it would seem
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