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teacher poem

a mist was driving down
above them all, looking down
my sorrow, when she's here with me
i am singing to you
the old songs
are you alive?
the pale day drowses on the western steep
as i lie roofed in, screened in
they threw a stone, you threw a stone
sweet with fern and rose
lived by the river-side
those black eyes i once so praised

 



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