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sad poetry

no prey am i of poor thoughts
be patient, life, when love is at the gate
as a white candle
softly now the light of day
long ago, in the young moonlight
i fill this cup
world that changes under my hand
often is it not so?
tripping up, falling down
if i should die, think only this of me
who loves the rain
the old west, the old time
within this lowly grave a conqueror lies

 



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