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sad death poem

so fallen
star-dust and vaporous light
somewhere i read a strange, old, rusty tale
over the rooftops race the shadows of clouds
i am weary of being bitter and weary of being wise
let us express our baser passions
my sorrow, when she's here with me
lo! 'tis a gala night
in his guarded tent
sleep, gray brother of death
sun and wind and beat of sea
let a joy keep you

 



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