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religious poem

a gleam of gold in gloom and gray
while i stood listening, discreetly dumb
the stars fell from heaven
my sorrow, when she's here with me
made up of loveliness alone
when i returned at sunset
simplicity
stand here by my side
do the boys and girls still go
there were three in the meadow by the brook
a blue-black nubian plucking oranges
three days i heard them grieve when i lay dead
i saw him once before
i burn no incense

 



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