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type of poem

desolate and lone
wrap the earth in cloudy weather
somewhere i read a strange, old, rusty tale
there were three in the meadow by the brook
i saw you hunched and shivering on the stones
sweet with fern and rose
in september
two rows of cabbages
this is the song of youth
i've won the race
with the sunset
sweet splendor
by the shore, by the sea
let us pity those who are better off than we are

 



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