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narrative poetry

grieve not for the invisible
i never knew the earth had so much gold
in the dark and peace of my final bed
renew the vision of delight
she was a beauty in the days
one sweetly solemn thought
this ancient silver bowl of mine
listen
through the broad earth's aching breast
i bid them all farewell
out of me unworthy and unknown
it is true that you say the gods are more use to you than fairies

 



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