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fat black bucks in a wine-barrel room
i have seen the proudest stars
when, full of warm and eager love
thou unrelenting past
in their ragged regimentals
i expect you
it was the autumn of the year
the light withdrawn
the snow whispers about me
noises that strive to tear
there is a city, builded by no hand
this is the song of youth
birds against the april wind

 



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