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he'd even have his joke
the darkness
the smell of the rose so false, the thorns so true
with the meek, brown eyes
last midnight
i said
over the rooftops race the shadows of clouds
the endless, foolish merriment of stars
i cannot always feel his greatness
by the shore, by the sea
one sweetly solemn thought
you are my companion
my soul is a dark ploughed field
gone before us

 



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