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type of poetry

star-dust and vaporous light
now while my lips are living
i do not pray for peace
see, they return
when sea-winds pierced our solitudes
all those treasures that lie
sleep, gray brother of death
one by one, like leaves from a tree
shades of night were falling fast
there by the window in the old house
though love repine, and reason chafe
green afternoon serene and bright

 



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