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brother poem

why are the things that have no death
all those treasures that lie
now while my lips are living
in the sphere
last night the full moon laid a cloth of white
the old west, the old time
could we but know
up from the meadows rich with corn
some one complained to the master
i have known the silence of the stars and of the sea
i have come into the desert because my soul is athirst
how shall i help to right the world that is going wrong

 



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