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teacher poem

better than granite
how like the stars are these white, nameless faces
high-born race
shades of night were falling fast
night was black and drear
the snow whispers about me
to some the fat gods
see i give myself to you
do you hear the rain?
if i had known how narrow a prison is love
my mother twines me roses wet with dew
a gleam of gold in gloom and gray


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