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"St. Agnes' Eve---Ah, bitter chill it was! The owl, for all his feathers, was a-cold; The hare limp'd trembling through the frozen grass,---"
John Keats, The Eve of St. Agnes, 1819
OBVIOUSLY, KEATS NEVER MET THESE LITTLE GUYS! COME WITH ME FOR A ROMP WITH THE SNOW BUNNIES IN THE WINTER KINGDOM! |
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