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memorial poem

braided and woven
brother, i am fire
you say you love me
sleep sweetly in your humble graves
o fair and stately maid, whose eyes
love me at last, or if you will not
shades of night were falling fast
my mother twines me roses wet with dew
out of the sparkling sea
music i heard with you was more than music
high walls and huge
so fallen

 



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