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lyric poem

come down at dawn from windless hills
when freedom from her mountain height
moonlight deep and tender
i sometimes wonder if it's really true
perhaps it is no matter that you died
her face is fair and smooth and fine
so fallen
the arches of the red bridge
a gleam of gold in gloom and gray
see, they return
dear wife
when night drifts along the streets of the city

 



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