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i miss you poem

the snow whispers about me
and breaketh bread no more
when night drifts along the streets of the city
she heard the children playing in the sun
how shall i help to right the world that is going wrong
in the dark and peace of my final bed
these hearts were woven of human joys and cares
there were three in the meadow by the brook
i have come into the desert because my soul is athirst
now while my lips are living

 



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