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thanksgiving poem

little gate was reached at last
lived by the river-side
a storm is riding on the tide
she said
i love my hour of wind and light
have you not heard
afraid no more, i say
long ago, in the young moonlight
i see all human wits
i went up and down the streets
three years ago today
for i was a gaunt, grave councillor
a sky that has never known sun, moon or stars

 



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