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thanksgiving poem

behold me, in my chiffon, gauze and tinsel
why do you always stand there shivering
i stand in the cold gray weather
among the smoke and fog of a december afternoon
sleep sweetly in your humble graves
out of the window a sea of green trees
dear wife
i love my life, but not too well
i love to steal awhile away
never in all my life
mid pleasures and palaces though we may roam
she heard the children playing in the sun
not from the whole wide world
look out upon the stars, my love

 



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