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mother daughter poem

mysterious night
glooms of the live-oaks
brief on a flying night
shades of night were falling fast
there is no escape by the river
in all things not spoken of
good woman
once this soft turf
shines the last age, the next with hope is seen
look back with longing eyes and know that i will follow
here lies a most beautiful lady
a gleam of gold in gloom and gray

 



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