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sympathy poem

days endeared to every muse
rising moon has hid the stars
stir
hang no wreath
the dawn was apple-green
did you ever hear of
i despise my friends more than you
they may talk of love in a cottage
glooms of the live-oaks
skies they were ashen and sober
i do not pray for peace
i stand in the cold gray weather
give me
i had a dream and i awoke with it

 



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