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poem for dad

against the green flame of the hawthorn-tree
renew the vision of delight
why then, must we see?
in their ragged regimentals
he speaks not well
the darkness rolls upward
within this lowly grave a conqueror lies
the ships are lying in the bay
i fill this cup
here lies a most beautiful lady
our pleasant moments fly
i have known the silence of the stars and of the sea

 



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