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christmas poetry

the mountains they are silent folk
in your flight
there was a strangeness on your lips
high-born race
from song and dream for ever gone
beautiful, tragical faces
look back with longing eyes and know that i will follow
could we but know
all quiet along the potomac
stir
do you hear the rain?
i wonder where you live
the single clenched fist lifted and ready
she might have known it in the earlier spring

 



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