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my soul is a dark ploughed field
over the river, on the hill
afraid no more, i say
like him whose spirit in the blaze of noon
from song and dream for ever gone
i am the wind that wavers
be not angry with me
i loathed you
once this soft turf
soft as the bed in the earth
i made a vow once, one only
it is true that you say the gods are more use to you than fairies

 



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