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autumn poem

i love the old melodious lays
my sorrow, when she's here with me
in an old chamber softly lit
i am the wind that wavers
out of me unworthy and unknown
there are gains for all our losses
there was a strangeness on your lips
my true love from her pillow rose
i know what you're going to say
under a spreading chestnut tree
i love to steal awhile away
very well, you liberals
pushing out, struggling vainly
not from the whole wide world

 



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