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spanish poem

the meadow was creeping
uplifting, as the wind blew
up from the south at break of day
into the silent land
above them all, looking down
good woman
there's one that i once loved so much
as i lie roofed in, screened in
not from the whole wide world
why then, must we see?
though i am little as all little things
there by the window in the old house

 



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