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fall poem

eighty years have passed, and more
still thirteen years
could we but know
though love repine, and reason chafe
while i stood listening, discreetly dumb
gloom
i know not where
i can not tell you now
let a joy keep you
when sea-winds pierced our solitudes
splendid and terrible your love
by the shore, by the sea
come down at dawn from windless hills

 



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