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christmas poems

i had over-prepared the event
there is no escape by the river
sleep, gray brother of death
one sweetly solemn thought
why then, must we see?
tripping up, falling down
mid pleasures and palaces though we may roam
to come so soon to this imagined dark
what do i owe to you
i saw god. do you doubt it?
simply speaking
it tells of good old times
their beautiful hair
my soul is a dark ploughed field

 



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