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narrative poetry

since i have felt the sense of death
when the hours of day are numbered
the little pitiful, worn, laughing faces
i said, i have shut my heart
high-born race
muffled drum's sad roll has beat
i had a dream and i awoke with it
i went up and down the streets
out of the window a sea of green trees
beautiful, tragical faces
sad are they who know not love
gaily through the fields we danced
a thousand silent years ago

 



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