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thanksgiving poetry

a flying word from here and there
when freedom from her mountain height
under dusky laurel leaf
the fragrance came
before the solemn bronze saint
as evening falls
it is true that you say the gods are more use to you than fairies
this ancient silver bowl of mine
calm as that second summer
a look is but a ray
i shall see a star tonight
the stars fell from heaven
leave the lovely words unsaid

 



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