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o fair and stately maid, whose eyes
sun and wind and beat of sea
often i think of the beautiful town
a flying word from here and there
above them all, looking down
when night drifts along the streets of the city
one sweetly solemn thought
in may
i do not pray for peace
green afternoon serene and bright
dear wife
now that i have cooled to you
death's nobility again

 



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