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with the meek, brown eyes
i have seen the proudest stars
be in me as the eternal moods
a few more windy days
moonlight deep and tender
here lies a most beautiful lady
let us pity those who are better off than we are
quietly, with reverance, in awe
softly weeping
why then, must we see?
the poets tell
it tells of good old times
from floor to ceiling
god

 



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