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halloween poetry

though love repine, and reason chafe
a mist was driving down
the snow whispers about me
melancholy days have come
had he and i but met
how wild, how witch-like weird that life should be
my son is dead and i am going blind
high walls and huge
to the passionate lover
they in the darkness gather and ask
the arches of the red bridge
city that is not a city
and with the humming bird
a gleam of gold in gloom and gray

 



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