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One day that I pass in the street of the potters
I reckoned myself from the middle of the pots
Ere that I make a present of my clay to the potters
May it be that I am now a pot when I drink wine

 

P 613

By the potters' quarter whenever I take my way,
I fancy myself a pot mid the pots' array;
But many a winepot I'll drain before the day
When I make the potter a present of this my clay.

Th 168

As I the potters' quarter pass some day,
I 'll think myself a pot 'mid pots' array;
They yet may make a wine-jar I may drain
Before to potters I present my clay.

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