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footprint poem

sad are they who know not love
the ships are lying in the bay
in all things not spoken of
hang no wreath
as a white candle
it was the autumn of the year
she has a clear, wind-sheltered loveliness
doubtless i remember still
moonlight deep and tender
give me
i made a vow once, one only
if i should die, think only this of me
rocked in the cradle of the deep

 



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