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graduation poem

she heard the children playing in the sun
i expect you
fat black bucks in a wine-barrel room
my son is dead and i am going blind
who will be naming the wind
i love the old melodious lays
their beautiful hair
those black eyes i once so praised
i do not pray for peace
these be
how shall i help to right the world that is going wrong
if i had known how narrow a prison is love
never in all my life

 



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