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angel poem

in your arms was still delight
last night the full moon laid a cloth of white
let a joy keep you
perhaps it is no matter that you died
i flung my soul to the air like a falcon flying
high-born race
the arches of the red bridge
that strange companion came on shuffling feet
from song and dream for ever gone
for then without
glooms of the live-oaks
i am weary of being bitter and weary of being wise

 



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