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sad poem

so lost
little park that i pass through
i see all human wits
the meadow was creeping
a life on the ocean wave
for i was a gaunt, grave councillor
i love my life, but not too well
i saw the first pear
my soul goes clad in gorgeous things
had he and i but met
here lies a most beautiful lady
braided and woven
there are three ways in which men take
do not grieve that it is over

 



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