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mother poem

there is a city, builded by no hand
star-dust and vaporous light
when night drifts along the streets of the city
the shadows of the ships
the swan existing
in september
there by the window in the old house
i had a dream and i awoke with it
when sea-winds pierced our solitudes
do the boys and girls still go
behold me, in my chiffon, gauze and tinsel
gone are the three, those sisters rare

 



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