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sad poetry

i am fevered
i am the wind that wavers
to come so soon to this imagined dark
shades of night were falling fast
lived by the river-side
good woman
sun stepped down from his golden throne
she heard the children playing in the sun
simply speaking
in their ragged regimentals
your body's motion is like music
the saddest of the year
why then, must we see?

 



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