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christmas poem

star-dust and vaporous light
come down at dawn from windless hills
against the green flame of the hawthorn-tree
of sun nor stars
in new york harbor
the little pitiful, worn, laughing faces
woman much missed, how you call to me, call to me
i love my hour of wind and light
look out upon the stars, my love
which i wish to remark
i hold your heart
arched the flood

 



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