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Now rise to life again, sweet poetry!
She is chief among my muses this art.

Let Calliope go and sing her song
Her old wisdom knows not a passive note.

Let the Sirens attempt to sing as she
For none not even her daughters compete.

She is the goddess of the epic poetry,
The act of falling in love, the hope, and pain.

She is the music that moves men to life
When all the world is fraught with prosaic strife.

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