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best love poem

and my name is truthful
a few more windy days
i go my way complacently
the meadow was creeping
let a joy keep you
i saw you hunched and shivering on the stones
she has a clear, wind-sheltered loveliness
up from the meadows rich with corn
death's nobility again
full of tears
that year
our pleasant moments fly
to some the fat gods
she might have known it in the earlier spring

 



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