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lyric poetry

eighty years have passed, and more
above them all, looking down
the stars fell from heaven
stand here by my side
brief on a flying night
moonlight deep and tender
her face is fair and smooth and fine
there was never a sound beside the wood but one
mysterious night
wheel me down by the meadow
one by one, like leaves from a tree
have you heard
daughter, thou art come to die

 



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