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daughter poem

two rows of cabbages
shades of night were falling fast
i hold your heart
i went up and down the streets
we were not many
friend, whose smile has come to be
there were three in the meadow by the brook
the saddest of the year
the old west, the old time
see, they return
with her hair flaying wildly
the endless, foolish merriment of stars
in halls of sleep you wandered by
the meadow was creeping

 



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