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teen poetry

a few more windy days
i go my way complacently
when i was a boy at college
this is the song of youth
backward, turn backward
i am singing to you
all those treasures that lie
in new york harbor
the endless, foolish merriment of stars
when freedom from her mountain height
candles toppling sideways in tomato cans
why are the things that have no death
i am old and blind

 



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