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religious poem

within my hand i hold
i stood by the open casement
though i am little as all little things
blossoms of babies
if i should die, think only this of me
risen from the dead
love has been sung a thousand ways
simplicity
along a river-side
and so it goes
how like the stars are these white, nameless faces
eighty years have passed, and more
daughters of time

 



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