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christmas poetry

melancholy, blue it was
a look is but a ray
take my bracelets
under dusky laurel leaf
now for a brisk and cheerful fight
i make my shroud, but no one knows
in his guarded tent
i am dying
i saw the clouds among the hills
green afternoon serene and bright
star-dust and vaporous light
when freedom from her mountain height
uplifting, as the wind blew

 



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