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death poem

do you remember
woman much missed, how you call to me, call to me
she burst fierce wine
when i was a boy at college
to what shall a woman liken her beloved
in an old chamber softly lit
as i lie roofed in, screened in
babylon-where i go dreaming
roses and gold
brief on a flying night
day is done
over the river they beckon to me

 



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