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thanksgiving poem

music i heard with you was more than music
love me at last, or if you will not
the mountains they are silent folk
god
to some the fat gods
uplifting, as the wind blew
earth travails
some one complained to the master
i go my way complacently
it is true that you say the gods are more use to you than fairies
up from the south at break of day
sing again the song you sung

 



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