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poetry poem

do you hear the rain?
the child who threw away leaf after leaf
often is it not so?
three days i heard them grieve when i lay dead
to what shall a woman liken her beloved
last night the full moon laid a cloth of white
sweet with fern and rose
when freedom from her mountain height
beneath my window in a city street
do you remember
tell me less or tell me more
i stand in the cold gray weather

 



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