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poem for dad

be not angry with me
let me be sad
high-born race
have we no shame?
while i stood listening, discreetly dumb
and so it goes
her face is fair and smooth and fine
our pleasant moments fly
in the dark and peace of my final bed
there by the window in the old house
gaily through the fields we danced
i love my hour of wind and light
i saw the first pear
under the harvest moon

 



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