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autumn poem

one by one, like leaves from a tree
a very remarkable history this is
though love repine, and reason chafe
day is done
i have heard them in the night
as evening falls
from floor to ceiling
all my love for my sweet
i cannot always feel his greatness
why are the things that have no death
the darkness steals the forms of all the queens
a flying word from here and there
when the wind works against us in the dark
for these white arms about my neck

 



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