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fall poetry

i love my hour of wind and light
i saw the archangels in my apple-tree last night
shines the last age, the next with hope is seen
what was it the engines said
i am weary of being bitter and weary of being wise
thou unrelenting past
lo! 'tis a gala night
we who stood
i loathed you
hang no wreath
rising moon has hid the stars
she limps with halting painful pace

 



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