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under a spreading chestnut tree
stern cold man
short and sweet, and we've come to the end of it
i cannot always feel his greatness
give me hunger
two rows of cabbages
made up of loveliness alone
as i lie roofed in, screened in
a little peach in the orchard grew
he came and took me by the hand
no prey am i of poor thoughts
in mournful numbers

 



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