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friendship poem

rising moon has hid the stars
i am dying
simplicity
sun and wind and beat of sea
my mother twines me roses wet with dew
i burn no incense
three days i heard them grieve when i lay dead
wheel me down by the meadow
by the shore, by the sea
o fair and stately maid, whose eyes
take my bracelets
lo! 'tis a gala night
her face is fair and smooth and fine
let us plant

 



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