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halloween poem

against the green flame of the hawthorn-tree
sleep sweetly in your humble graves
my mother twines me roses wet with dew
i shall see a star tonight
what do i owe to you
master of human destinies am i
good woman
to be able to see every side of every question
my true love from her pillow rose
through the broad earth's aching breast
doubtless i remember still
the darkness steals the forms of all the queens
shades of night were falling fast
in and of itself

 



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