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teacher poem

i saw him once before
at dawn, he said
the ships are lying in the bay
beside a stricken field
birds against the april wind
see, from this counterfeit of him
stuff of the moon
stern cold man
when you come tonight
in september
what spiteful chance steals unawares
she has a clear, wind-sheltered loveliness
over the river, on the hill

 



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