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short poem

it was many and many a year ago
the saddest of the year
she said
like him whose spirit in the blaze of noon
a blue-black nubian plucking oranges
i have known the silence of the stars and of the sea
be not angry with me
pushing out, struggling vainly
in an old chamber softly lit
the arches of the red bridge
muffled drum's sad roll has beat
shadows lay along broadway
the shadows of the ships
i am the wind that wavers

 



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