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mother poem

beautiful, tragical faces
burly, dozing humble-bee
perhaps
at dawn, he said
i see all human wits
these hearts were woven of human joys and cares
i am the wind that wavers
last night the full moon laid a cloth of white
the stars fell from heaven
a sky that has never known sun, moon or stars
a pen of steel
like him whose spirit in the blaze of noon

 



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