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christmas poem

some of the hurts you have cured
i love my hour of wind and light
star-dust and vaporous light
what shall we do now
leave the lovely words unsaid
made up of loveliness alone
in the cloud-gray mornings
i am weary of being bitter and weary of being wise
brief on a flying night
fat black bucks in a wine-barrel room
quietly, with reverance, in awe

 



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