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sad poem

stir
but i cannot read you now
night is dark, and the winter winds
musing, between the sunset and the dark
woman much missed, how you call to me, call to me
sad are they who know not love
the body may confine
three years ago today
soft as the bed in the earth
like eagles on up high
the light withdrawn
lo! 'tis a gala night
beneath the warrior's helm
do not turn your head

 



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