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poem for pastors

i am dying
all those treasures that lie
i had over-prepared the event
i cannot always feel his greatness
all within and all without me
i bid them all farewell
three days i heard them grieve when i lay dead
when the hours of day are numbered
still thirteen years
i saw the clouds among the hills
what was it the engines said
in the cloud-gray mornings
some one complained to the master

 



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