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autumn poem

when the veil from the eyes is lifted
with the meek, brown eyes
i cannot always feel his greatness
i gazed upon the glorious sky
rising moon has hid the stars
three days i heard them grieve when i lay dead
i said
the earth keeps some vibration going
beside a stricken field
in may
come down at dawn from windless hills
when i was broke in london
have we no shame?

 



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