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type of poem

full of tears
i've won the race
the smell of the rose so false, the thorns so true
beneath my window in a city street
suddenly, out of dark and leafy ways
lived by the river-side
star-dust and vaporous light
as evening falls
stir
i have seen the proudest stars
see the tentative
in an old chamber softly lit
how shall i help to right the world that is going wrong

 



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