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poem for dad

love me at last, or if you will not
wheel me down by the meadow
why then, must we see?
like eagles on up high
i expect you
i saw the archangels in my apple-tree last night
from floor to ceiling
awful truths these be
good woman
all down the years
they may talk of love in a cottage
like him whose spirit in the blaze of noon
a flying word from here and there
tell me

 



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