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fall poetry

a thousand silent years ago
a flying word from here and there
when i go back to earth
in the sphere
i stand in the cold gray weather
i am weary of being bitter and weary of being wise
the lightning flashed, and lifted
mid pleasures and palaces though we may roam
daughter, thou art come to die
see, from this counterfeit of him
why then, must we see?


 



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