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i miss you poem

death's nobility again
there were three in the meadow by the brook
from song and dream for ever gone
if i should die, think only this of me
why are the things that have no death
are you awake?
her face is fair and smooth and fine
over the rooftops race the shadows of clouds
under the harvest moon
for these white arms about my neck
leave the lovely words unsaid
a very remarkable history this is

 



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