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friendship poem

i wonder where you live
the arches of the red bridge
my sorrow, when she's here with me
do you hear the rain?
if it
i do not pray for peace
for i was a gaunt, grave councillor
up from the south at break of day
while i stood listening, discreetly dumb
shines the last age, the next with hope is seen
could we but know
their beautiful hair
star-dust and vaporous light
along the banks

 



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