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famous poetry

as evening falls
shades of night were falling fast
through the broad earth's aching breast
friend, whose smile has come to be
who is the runner in the skies
within my hand i hold
pushing out, struggling vainly
shadows lay along broadway
he'd even have his joke
he came and took me by the hand
weak-winged is song
before the solemn bronze saint
could we but know

 



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