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mother poem

some of the hurts you have cured
it tells of good old times
very well, you liberals
high-born race
royal feast was done
behold me, in my chiffon, gauze and tinsel
have we no shame?
daughters of time
still her gray rocks tower above the sea
could we but know
a gleam of gold in gloom and gray
i loathed you
you are beautiful and faded

 



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