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poetry in motion

what shall we do now
they ask me where i've been
while i stood listening, discreetly dumb
sun and wind and beat of sea
i walk down the garden paths
it is true that you say the gods are more use to you than fairies
bring me soft song
her face is fair and smooth and fine
i make my shroud, but no one knows
tell me less or tell me more

 



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