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Someone gathered rich apples, rich corn,
Grown of your heart and your brain,
And in me, as a loft, has stored
Some of the fruit and grain.
The loft smells sweet with its store:
The corn for making…
They are all seated in the parlour once again.Alice:Alright, I have another idea. I propose we go around and describe the scene on New Year’s Eve one hundred years ago. What do you…