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acrostic poem

a storm is riding on the tide
lady, your heart has turned to dust
let us pity those who are better off than we are
there are gains for all our losses
muffled drum's sad roll has beat
i saw the clouds among the hills
i said, i have shut my heart
the pale day drowses on the western steep
there was a time in former years
when i looked into your eyes
out of the sparkling sea
the hypocritic days

 



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