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christian poetry

from floor to ceiling
weak-winged is song
there is no escape by the river
shines the last age, the next with hope is seen
last midnight
my mother twines me roses wet with dew
when night drifts along the streets of the city
all within and all without me
up to her chamber window
out of the sparkling sea
awful truths these be
pharaoh, king of egypt's land

 



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