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poem

when night drifts along the streets of the city
i loathed you
have you not heard
in their ragged regimentals
it was many and many a year ago
made up of loveliness alone
no prey am i of poor thoughts
i heard the wind all day
but i cannot read you now
never in all my life
when the hours of day are numbered
on and on
sun stepped down from his golden throne
she knows a cheap release

 



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