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poetry in motion

and as we walked the grass was faintly stirred
these hearts were woven of human joys and cares
when i looked into your eyes
when i go back to earth
eighty years have passed, and more
see, they return
there is a city, builded by no hand
some one complained to the master
the saddest of the year
mid pleasures and palaces though we may roam

 



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