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modern poetry

i love to steal awhile away
friend, whose smile has come to be
i flung my soul to the air like a falcon flying
eighty years have passed, and more
had he and i but met
a thin gray shadow on the edge of thought
i am the wind that wavers
three years ago today
in new york harbor
have you not heard
gaily through the fields we danced
we were not many

 



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