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i burn no incense
take my bracelets
long ago, in the young moonlight
a poet, having taken the bridle off his tongue
from song and dream for ever gone
grieve not for the invisible
in the dark and peace of my final bed
the stars fell from heaven
had he and i but met
when the hours of day are numbered
the old songs
green afternoon serene and bright
sitting in his rocker waiting for your tea
splendid and terrible your love

 



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