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child poem

days endeared to every muse
gaily through the fields we danced
i have to say good-night
all within and all without me
sun stepped down from his golden throne
stern cold man
i walk down the garden paths
a thin gray shadow on the edge of thought
awful truths these be
tripping up, falling down
i make my shroud, but no one knows
the mountains they are silent folk

 



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