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haiku poem

rocked in the cradle of the deep
in new york harbor
high-born race
be in me as the eternal moods
she must go back, she said
to clothe the fiery thought
i made a vow once, one only
glooms of the live-oaks
we were not many
the single clenched fist lifted and ready
she has a clear, wind-sheltered loveliness
a mist was driving down
the shadows of the ships

 



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