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Toast G.F.E. McGuiness

I guess it falls upon me most To raise a voice in final toast To the clay that was this man The kiln, the fire, and Artful Hand Which formed him thus for us. Salute! Is beauty trapped in this bouquet? Could each petal's want be sound Enough to free and pull away Intact to flee the mortal bound? His life defined, our love inclined. Salute! I raise my hand to venerate The lowered taking soul to flight. In his arms was once our fate. Our hands in tribute to this knight In armor shining, self declining. Salute!

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