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mom poem

babylon-where i go dreaming
beneath my window in a city street
i was a goddess ere the marble found me
good woman
in mournful numbers
now for a brisk and cheerful fight
lady, your heart has turned to dust
day is done
which i wish to remark
if i were very sure
now that i have cooled to you
look back with longing eyes and know that i will follow

 



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