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suicide poem

why do you always stand there shivering
we were not many
i saw the clouds among the hills
over the river, on the hill
roses and gold
behold me, in my chiffon, gauze and tinsel
the arches of the red bridge
daughter, thou art come to die
by the rude bridge
sun and wind and beat of sea
listen
lo! 'tis a gala night
we lay
soft as the bed in the earth

 



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