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nature poem

i heard the wind all day
she limps with halting painful pace
a blue-black nubian plucking oranges
like eagles on up high
i stood by the open casement
high-born race
sweet and strong
with joy and wonder
my sorrow, when she's here with me
short and sweet, and we've come to the end of it
little gate was reached at last
there is a city, builded by no hand
my son is dead and i am going blind

 



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