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fall poem

she must go back, she said
some of the hurts you have cured
in the cloud-gray mornings
in all things not spoken of
i made a vow once, one only
at midnight
all those treasures that lie
gaily through the fields we danced
these hearts were woven of human joys and cares
it is true that you say the gods are more use to you than fairies
you say you love me
you are clear

 



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