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mother poem

let us express our baser passions
gone are the three, those sisters rare
gloom
could we but know
to be able to see every side of every question
i shake my hair in the wind of morning
i am old and blind
let us plant
star-dust and vaporous light
my soul is a dark ploughed field
the child who threw away leaf after leaf
brief on a flying night
shadows lay along broadway

 



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