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life poem

when the hours of day are numbered
the child who threw away leaf after leaf
the air is full of dawn and spring
why do
i am the wind that wavers
why then, must we see?
through the broad earth's aching breast
in the cloud-gray mornings
now that i have cooled to you
earth travails
what spiteful chance steals unawares
i know what you're going to say
my soul goes clad in gorgeous things

 



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