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i miss you poem

up from the meadows rich with corn
if it
some one complained to the master
uplifting, as the wind blew
within this lowly grave a conqueror lies
i am in love with high far-seeing places
we lay
i know what you're going to say
i said, i have shut my heart
better than granite
awful truths these be
short and sweet, and we've come to the end of it

 



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