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famous poem

i saw you hunched and shivering on the stones
softly now the light of day
my soul is a dark ploughed field
in all things not spoken of
a pen of steel
they may talk of love in a cottage
my son is dead and i am going blind
that strange companion came on shuffling feet
if the red slayer think he slays
simplicity
afraid no more, i say
roses and gold
sweet splendor
hang no wreath

 



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