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poem for dad

i am old and blind
i saw the clouds among the hills
how wild, how witch-like weird that life should be
over the river they beckon to me
the meadow was creeping
stern cold man
our pleasant moments fly
one sweetly solemn thought
she burst fierce wine
if the red slayer think he slays
passing through huddled and ugly walls
dear wife
do not turn your head

 



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