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child poetry

brief on a flying night
very well, you liberals
a storm is riding on the tide
lived by the river-side
at midnight
i saw the first pear
within my hand i hold
the old songs
skies they were ashen and sober
suddenly, out of dark and leafy ways
these hearts were woven of human joys and cares
she might have known it in the earlier spring
you say you love me

 



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