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nature poem

if the red slayer think he slays
stern cold man
my sorrow, when she's here with me
tripping up, falling down
he speaks not well
i burn no incense
i have known the silence of the stars and of the sea
darkest, strangest mystery
my soul goes clad in gorgeous things
there was never a sound beside the wood but one
there by the window in the old house
uplifting, as the wind blew
the air is full of dawn and spring
were it not for that singular smell

 



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