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birthday poem

still thirteen years
but i cannot read you now
lo! 'tis a gala night
when sea-winds pierced our solitudes
there were three in the meadow by the brook
the darkness rolls upward
take my bracelets
i walk down the garden paths
the sun is up
for i was a gaunt, grave councillor
simplicity
i went up and down the streets
up and down he goes

 



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