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cowboy poetry

when sea-winds pierced our solitudes
how shall i help to right the world that is going wrong
i saw the first pear
those black eyes i once so praised
bring me soft song
the arches of the red bridge
the poets tell
we were not many
my mother twines me roses wet with dew
do not turn your head
music i heard with you was more than music
in his guarded tent

 



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