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autumn poem

in their ragged regimentals
three days i heard them grieve when i lay dead
so lost
softly now the light of day
i've won the race
rocked in the cradle of the deep
the mountains they are silent folk
green afternoon serene and bright
gloom
when the wind works against us in the dark
mid pleasures and palaces though we may roam
let me move slowly through the street
who loves the rain

 



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