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poem for pastors

this is the song of youth
awful truths these be
i have heard that a certain princess
three years ago today
the smell of the rose so false, the thorns so true
with lips blood red and heart of stone
from floor to ceiling
wheel me down by the meadow
take my bracelets
out of the window a sea of green trees
do not grieve that it is over
we were not many
sweet with fern and rose

 



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