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daughter poem

it tells of good old times
let me be sad
do i like it
gaily through the fields we danced
lo! 'tis a gala night
the ancient songs
still thirteen years
splendid and terrible your love
behold me, in my chiffon, gauze and tinsel
i am dying
tripping up, falling down
a flying word from here and there
once this soft turf

 



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