Cried and cried, little Dorin for nights.
He found the clown but not the smile!
“Where could she be!” thought Dorin warily,
“Under a book or over the blighted sky.”
Three nights he looked through dying winds.
Then his wily jackal retorts, “She is a gilded liar,
Could she be swimming in the devil’s admire?”
“What will the devil do with the smile” said Dorin,
“He’s got no love, not even a knife!” “A liar she is, thus
I need her so. An illusion this pawn wants and the smile
was its rye all along. So wait a little longer, nothing is
on blaze and desire’s fork is still stirring my ire. ”
Dorin had just realized, what's a clown without a smile!
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