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sympathy poem

out of the window a sea of green trees
i go my way complacently
to come so soon to this imagined dark
the little white prayers
what was it the engines said
to be able to see every side of every question
quietly, with reverance, in awe
winged shadows sweeping by
how shall i help to right the world that is going wrong
a gleam of gold in gloom and gray
glass-blower of time
i saw the clouds among the hills
i am dying
still thirteen years

 



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