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the meadow was creeping
a flying word from here and there
i saw the archangels in my apple-tree last night
weak-winged is song
listen
why are the things that have no death
did you ever see an alligator
the arches of the red bridge
in mournful numbers
somewhere i read a strange, old, rusty tale
daughter, thou art come to die
i know what you're going to say

 



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