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acrostic poem

stand here by my side
there was a time in former years
here falls no light
do you hear the rain?
truely
their beautiful hair
glooms of the live-oaks
the darkness rolls upward
gone are the three, those sisters rare
hang no wreath
over the river they beckon to me
there was never a sound beside the wood but one
thou unrelenting past
there are gains for all our losses

 



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