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pastor appreciation poem

under dusky laurel leaf
in halls of sleep you wandered by
lo! 'tis a gala night
perhaps it is no matter that you died
and my name is truthful
rocked in the cradle of the deep
i saw the clouds among the hills
night is dark, and the winter winds
were it not for that singular smell
you are my companion
lady, your heart has turned to dust

 



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