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kid poem

she was a beauty in the days
the old songs
a thin gray shadow on the edge of thought
sing again the song you sung
i have heard them in the night
here falls no light
i see all human wits
since i have felt the sense of death
i expect you
the rain was over, and the brilliant air
how wild, how witch-like weird that life should be
these be
when i go back to earth
from floor to ceiling

 



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