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baby poem

shines the last age, the next with hope is seen
love me at last, or if you will not
thoughts through my head
very well, you liberals
softly now the light of day
a thin gray shadow on the edge of thought
at dawn, he said
up from the meadows rich with corn
earth travails
from our hidden places
love has been sung a thousand ways
i can not tell you now
why so sad my lovely one?
do the boys and girls still go

 



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