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happy birthday poem

under dusky laurel leaf
for then without
tell me less or tell me more
for these white arms about my neck
who will be naming the wind
three years ago today
sun stepped down from his golden throne
daughter, thou art come to die
tell me not
like eagles on up high
in new york harbor
glooms of the live-oaks
friend, whose smile has come to be
thoughts through my head

 



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