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thanksgiving poem

tell me not
i have had one fear in my life
this is the arsenal
with lips blood red and heart of stone
a mist was driving down
better than granite
along a river-side
i saw the archangels in my apple-tree last night
like eagles on up high
do you think, my boy, when i put my arms around you
out of the sparkling sea
why do you always stand there shivering
hang no wreath
backward, turn backward

 



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