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child poem

we break the glass whose sacred wine
this ancient silver bowl of mine
under a spreading chestnut tree
i never knew the earth had so much gold
there is no flock, however watched and tended
i've won the race
i am old and blind
there by the window in the old house
in the sphere
and how could you dream of meeting
muffled drum's sad roll has beat
she was a beauty in the days

 



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