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christian poetry

in all things not spoken of
the snow whispers about me
for truth, for love
now for a brisk and cheerful fight
the darkness rolls upward
there were three in the meadow by the brook
you say you love me
splendid and terrible your love
why so sad my lovely one?
the lightning flashed, and lifted
there is an hour of peaceful rest
it was the autumn of the year
the agony of having too much power

 



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