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birthday poetry

grieve not for the invisible
risen from the dead
a mile behind
no prey am i of poor thoughts
i gazed upon the glorious sky
melancholy, blue it was
days endeared to every muse
i went up and down the streets
out of the window a sea of green trees
the meadow was creeping
there were three in the meadow by the brook
why do you always stand there shivering

 



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