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famous poem

simply speaking
perhaps it is no matter that you died
you are beautiful and faded
the fragrance came
the hypocritic days
i love my hour of wind and light
when i was a boy at college
like him whose spirit in the blaze of noon
in mournful numbers
dark-eyed
this ancient silver bowl of mine
in september
rocked in the cradle of the deep
glass-blower of time

 



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