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sad poetry

often i think of the beautiful town
night was black and drear
perhaps it is no matter that you died
the arches of the red bridge
i love my hour of wind and light
do not grieve that it is over
mid pleasures and palaces though we may roam
my mother twines me roses wet with dew
i shall see a star tonight
in your flight
as a naked man i go
the snow whispers about me

 



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