Mention112407
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so:text | But we are gifted, even in November, Rawest of seasons, with so huge a sense Of her nakedly worn magnificence We forget cruelty and past betrayal, Heedless of where the next bright bolt may fall. (en) |
so:isPartOf | https://en.wikiquote.org/wiki/Robert_Graves |
so:description | Poems (en) |
qkg:hasContext | qkg:Context55095 |
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Triples where Mention112407 is the object (without rdf:type)
qkg:Quotation105156 | qkg:hasMention |
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