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halloween poetry

now that i have cooled to you
it is true that you say the gods are more use to you than fairies
the old songs
all quiet along the potomac
against the green flame of the hawthorn-tree
these be
brief on a flying night
see the tentative
the child who threw away leaf after leaf
by the rude bridge
my soul goes clad in gorgeous things
this is the song of youth


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