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lyric poem

gaily through the fields we danced
to be able to see every side of every question
i made a vow once, one only
you are clear
awful truths these be
though i am little as all little things
among the smoke and fog of a december afternoon
along a river-side
under a spreading chestnut tree
why are the things that have no death
good woman
the light withdrawn
simplicity

 



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