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retirement poem

a poet, having taken the bridle off his tongue
did you ever see an alligator
like eagles on up high
what spiteful chance steals unawares
in the dark and peace of my final bed
now for a brisk and cheerful fight
i think it just splendid
against the green flame of the hawthorn-tree
some of the hurts you have cured
lo! 'tis a gala night
with the meek, brown eyes

 



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