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daughter poem

i can not tell you now
sleep sweetly in your humble graves
gloom
babylon-where i go dreaming
out of the window a sea of green trees
rocked in the cradle of the deep
he'd even have his joke
come down at dawn from windless hills
beautiful, tragical faces
melancholy days have come
when i go back to earth
the endless, foolish merriment of stars

 



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