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religious poem

how shall i help to right the world that is going wrong
sad are they who know not love
rocked in the cradle of the deep
made up of loveliness alone
what spiteful chance steals unawares
they may talk of love in a cottage
they in the darkness gather and ask
up from the south at break of day
last midnight
the snow whispers about me
when you come tonight
one by one, like leaves from a tree
often is it not so?

 



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