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birthday poem

the mountains they are silent folk
up from the south at break of day
i have heard that a certain princess
i went up and down the streets
my soul is a dark ploughed field
come down at dawn from windless hills
he'd even have his joke
there were three in the meadow by the brook
musing, between the sunset and the dark
i have known the silence of the stars and of the sea
he's gone
weak-winged is song
here lies a most beautiful lady

 



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