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kid poem

this ancient silver bowl of mine
the arches of the red bridge
i shall see a star tonight
we were not many
lived by the river-side
in all things not spoken of
one sweetly solemn thought
i stand in the cold gray weather
i had a dream and i awoke with it
up from the south at break of day
tell me not
did you ever hear of
all down the years

 



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