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wedding poem

when a deed is done for freedom
and with the humming bird
it was many and many a year ago
this is the song of youth
darkest, strangest mystery
there is no flock, however watched and tended
is there anybody there
this ancient silver bowl of mine
for i was a gaunt, grave councillor
for these white arms about my neck
i have come into the desert because my soul is athirst
soft as the bed in the earth

 



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