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def poetry

it was the autumn of the year
though love repine, and reason chafe
i cannot always feel his greatness
since i have felt the sense of death
look out upon the stars, my love
tripping up, falling down
lady, your heart has turned to dust
desolate and lone
what shall we do now
i shall see a star tonight
be not angry with me
uplifting, as the wind blew
along a river-side

 



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