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halloween poem for kid

the smell of the rose so false, the thorns so true
in the cloud-gray mornings
there was a time in former years
a pen of steel
let us pity those who are better off than we are
sweet and strong
the dawn was apple-green
against the green flame of the hawthorn-tree
why are the things that have no death
the saddest of the year
you say you love me
the mountains they are silent folk

 



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