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wedding poem

just as my fingers on these keys
there was a time in former years
who is the runner in the skies
to what shall a woman liken her beloved
bring me soft song
when i was broke in london
desolate and lone
blossoms of babies
wheel me down by the meadow
with the meek, brown eyes
one sweetly solemn thought
in the cloud-gray mornings
old wine to drink

 



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