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religious poem

to some the fat gods
my sorrow, when she's here with me
i saw the archangels in my apple-tree last night
the air is full of dawn and spring
stern cold man
you are beautiful and faded
it tells of good old times
o fair and stately maid, whose eyes
often is it not so?
we were not many
have you heard
there by the window in the old house

 



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