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teacher poem

i walk down the garden paths
my soul goes clad in gorgeous things
for truth, for love
burly, dozing humble-bee
the little white prayers
the body may confine
softly now the light of day
the darkness rolls upward
let me move slowly through the street
as it
i am a woman
the dawn was apple-green
up from the meadows rich with corn
in halls of sleep you wandered by

 



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