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grandmother poem

friend, whose smile has come to be
at dawn, he said
do i like it
i think it just splendid
let a joy keep you
listen to the sounding sea
simply speaking
for i was a gaunt, grave councillor
the darkness steals the forms of all the queens
along a river-side
when i was broke in london
wheel me down by the meadow
do you remember
i am dying

 



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