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christmas poems

we who stood
she limps with halting painful pace
when i returned at sunset
once this soft turf
i have to say good-night
now for a brisk and cheerful fight
i am a woman
last midnight
dark-eyed
the ships are lying in the bay
the single clenched fist lifted and ready
if i should die, think only this of me
somewhere i read a strange, old, rusty tale

 



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