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sad death poem

my soul goes clad in gorgeous things
never in all my life
there were three in the meadow by the brook
the poets tell
i said
glooms of the live-oaks
renew the vision of delight
when, full of warm and eager love
over the river they beckon to me
stay no more
i saw god. do you doubt it?
i fill this cup
candles toppling sideways in tomato cans

 



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