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sister poem

if i should die, think only this of me
somewhere i read a strange, old, rusty tale
it was the autumn of the year
music i heard with you was more than music
they in the darkness gather and ask
shades of night were falling fast
shines the last age, the next with hope is seen
it was many and many a year ago
old wine to drink
sleep, gray brother of death
once this soft turf

 



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