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death poem

why are the things that have no death
i have known the silence of the stars and of the sea
what spiteful chance steals unawares
do you hear the rain?
softly now the light of day
full of tears
i go my way complacently
i think it just splendid
better than granite
moonlight deep and tender
one by one, like leaves from a tree
at dawn, he said
here lies a most beautiful lady

 



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