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teen poem

who loves the rain
the little pitiful, worn, laughing faces
what spiteful chance steals unawares
when i was broke in london
the sun is up
that year
it was many and many a year ago
a flying word from here and there
it is true that you say the gods are more use to you than fairies
at dawn, he said
as a white candle
three years ago today

 



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