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funeral poem

rising moon has hid the stars
i do not pray for peace
in halls of sleep you wandered by
once this soft turf
how shall i help to right the world that is going wrong
under dusky laurel leaf
evidenced in the glimmer in your eyes
shines the last age, the next with hope is seen
all within and all without me
lived by the river-side
i am singing to you
she limps with halting painful pace
birds against the april wind

 



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