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modern poetry

leave the lovely words unsaid
gone before us
a little peach in the orchard grew
o fair and stately maid, whose eyes
i have known the silence of the stars and of the sea
now that i have cooled to you
under dusky laurel leaf
the body may confine
blossoms of babies
she said
in mournful numbers
who will be naming the wind
look back with longing eyes and know that i will follow
eighty years have passed, and more

 



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