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modern poetry

i saw you hunched and shivering on the stones
you say you love me
along the banks
my sorrow, when she's here with me
my son is dead and i am going blind
just now
let us pity those who are better off than we are
perhaps
the air is like a butterfly
evidenced in the glimmer in your eyes
there were three in the meadow by the brook
if it
bring me soft song
when i returned at sunset

 



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