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thanksgiving poem

but i cannot read you now
master of human destinies am i
i fill this cup
it was many and many a year ago
passing through huddled and ugly walls
often is it not so?
in all things not spoken of
as i lie roofed in, screened in
i heard the wind all day
with joy and wonder
daughter, thou art come to die
though love repine, and reason chafe

 



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