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short funny poem

the arches of the red bridge
the dawn was apple-green
when the wind works against us in the dark
i saw with open eyes
come down at dawn from windless hills
there is a city, builded by no hand
sweet splendor
still her gray rocks tower above the sea
sing again the song you sung
among the smoke and fog of a december afternoon
when i looked into your eyes
i saw him once before
and with the humming bird
why are the things that have no death

 



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