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memorial poem

i can not tell you now
do i like it
we break the glass whose sacred wine
those black eyes i once so praised
it tells of good old times
leave the lovely words unsaid
which i wish to remark
when the hours of day are numbered
perhaps it is no matter that you died
i love the old melodious lays
it was many and many a year ago
above them all, looking down
i know not where

 



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