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graduation poem

i bid them all farewell
little gate was reached at last
so fallen
to what shall a woman liken her beloved
thou unrelenting past
the swan existing
tell me not
the rain was over, and the brilliant air
the stars fell from heaven
do the boys and girls still go
i burn no incense
the long resounding marble corridors
why are the things that have no death
she has a clear, wind-sheltered loveliness

 



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