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teen poem

i do not pray for peace
in an old chamber softly lit
uplifting, as the wind blew
your body's motion is like music
of sun nor stars
i stood by the open casement
o fair and stately maid, whose eyes
what was it the engines said
gaily through the fields we danced
the snow whispers about me
afraid no more, i say
melancholy days have come

 



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