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child poetry

there are gains for all our losses
green afternoon serene and bright
the saddest of the year
where shall i find you
how wild, how witch-like weird that life should be
made up of loveliness alone
the stars fell from heaven
i make my shroud, but no one knows
over the river, on the hill
leave the lovely words unsaid
love me at last, or if you will not
the dawn was apple-green

 



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