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death poetry

there is a country full of wine
the single clenched fist lifted and ready
a bird sang
you are my companion
she must go back, she said
sad are they who know not love
all down the years
once this soft turf
i love my hour of wind and light
the arches of the red bridge
long has the summer sunlight shone
i know not where
long ago, in the young moonlight
so fallen

 



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