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birthday poetry

i despise my friends more than you
in all things not spoken of
now for a brisk and cheerful fight
in your arms was still delight
lady, your heart has turned to dust
calm as that second summer
i am fevered
i saw the clouds among the hills
that strange companion came on shuffling feet
to what shall a woman liken her beloved
sweet with fern and rose
i flung my soul to the air like a falcon flying
i am old and blind

 



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