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kid poem

who loves the rain
high-born race
shades of night were falling fast
the pale day drowses on the western steep
look back with longing eyes and know that i will follow
this is the song of youth
how wild, how witch-like weird that life should be
i made a vow once, one only
and my name is truthful
perhaps it is no matter that you died
do i like it
within my hand i hold
why are the things that have no death

 



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