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christmas poem

i burn no incense
last night the full moon laid a cloth of white
along the banks
in mournful numbers
it was many and many a year ago
the old west, the old time
there was never a sound beside the wood but one
now for a brisk and cheerful fight
the earth keeps some vibration going
little park that i pass through
love has been sung a thousand ways
if i should die, think only this of me
out of the window a sea of green trees


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