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autumn poem

once this soft turf
my soul goes clad in gorgeous things
there was never a sound beside the wood but one
he came and took me by the hand
i am in love with high far-seeing places
the stars fell from heaven
on and on
sun stepped down from his golden throne
to come so soon to this imagined dark
for i was a gaunt, grave councillor
i have heard them in the night

 



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