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sympathy poem

it was a tall young oysterman
the darkness rolls upward
do you remember
to what shall a woman liken her beloved
i shake my hair in the wind of morning
blossoms of babies
a gleam of gold in gloom and gray
brother, i am fire
look back with longing eyes and know that i will follow
and breaketh bread no more
there's one that i once loved so much
there by the window in the old house

 



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