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suicide poem

friend, whose smile has come to be
i go my way complacently
see the tentative
a very remarkable history this is
i have to say good-night
i saw the clouds among the hills
risen from the dead
the child who threw away leaf after leaf
i am singing to you
be not false
over the river they beckon to me
the sky
the little pitiful, worn, laughing faces

 



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