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all those treasures that lie
how shall i help to right the world that is going wrong
friend, whose smile has come to be
the sky
o fair and stately maid, whose eyes
there was a time in former years
pushing out, struggling vainly
days endeared to every muse
if the red slayer think he slays
had he and i but met
a flying word from here and there
birds against the april wind

 



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