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christmas poem

lived by the river-side
i stood by the open casement
she limps with halting painful pace
glooms of the live-oaks
splendid and terrible your love
do not turn your head
as i lie roofed in, screened in
out of me unworthy and unknown
and how could you dream of meeting
along the banks
sweet and strong
little park that i pass through
in the cloud-gray mornings
the child who threw away leaf after leaf

 



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