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i saw the archangels in my apple-tree last night
some of the hurts you have cured
old wine to drink
the single clenched fist lifted and ready
those on the top say they know you, earth-they are liars
and how could you dream of meeting
there was never a sound beside the wood but one
truely
i saw the clouds among the hills
shadows lay along broadway
now that i have cooled to you

 



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