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funeral poem

i love my hour of wind and light
i saw the first pear
her face is fair and smooth and fine
you are clear
among the mountains i wandered
sleep sweetly in your humble graves
a flying word from here and there
with her hair flaying wildly
have you seen walking through the village
stay no more
i am weary of being bitter and weary of being wise
i see all human wits
a gleam of gold in gloom and gray

 



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