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happy birthday poem

these be
be not angry with me
gone are the three, those sisters rare
i saw with open eyes
white foam flower, red flame flower
to what shall a woman liken her beloved
she limps with halting painful pace
darkest, strangest mystery
sun and wind and beat of sea
since, if you stood by my side today
glooms of the live-oaks
i can not tell you now

 



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