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life poem

out of the window a sea of green trees
a gleam of gold in gloom and gray
fat black bucks in a wine-barrel room
you are beautiful and faded
have you seen walking through the village
when the hours of day are numbered
short and sweet, and we've come to the end of it
a storm is riding on the tide
still thirteen years
under dusky laurel leaf
up from the south at break of day
often i think of the beautiful town
all within and all without me

 



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