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fall poetry

before the solemn bronze saint
i saw you hunched and shivering on the stones
no prey am i of poor thoughts
i stood by the open casement
how shall i help to right the world that is going wrong
when the veil from the eyes is lifted
look out upon the stars, my love
in an old chamber softly lit
all day to watch the blue wave curl and break
now that i have cooled to you
my soul is a dark ploughed field
at midnight

 



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