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grandmother poem

above them all, looking down
darkest, strangest mystery
is there anybody there
will you glimmer on the sea?
moonlight deep and tender
splendid and terrible your love
this ancient silver bowl of mine
i saw with open eyes
all those treasures that lie
why are the things that have no death
he came and took me by the hand
up to her chamber window
the pale day drowses on the western steep
beneath my window in a city street

 



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