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christian poetry

the pale day drowses on the western steep
i heard the wind all day
quietly, with reverance, in awe
along a river-side
i saw you hunched and shivering on the stones
stay no more
stuff of the moon
there were three in the meadow by the brook
i have known the silence of the stars and of the sea
the air is like a butterfly
in an old chamber softly lit

 



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