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retirement poem

stuff of the moon
there was a time in former years
royal feast was done
come down at dawn from windless hills
under dusky laurel leaf
in may
when sea-winds pierced our solitudes
the stars fell from heaven
listen to the sounding sea
through the broad earth's aching breast
eighty years have passed, and more
it is true that you say the gods are more use to you than fairies

 



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