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type of poem

she burst fierce wine
by the shore, by the sea
to some the fat gods
the air is like a butterfly
i said, i have shut my heart
those black eyes i once so praised
she heard the children playing in the sun
green afternoon serene and bright
let us plant
hang no wreath
out of the sparkling sea
the little pitiful, worn, laughing faces
there is no flock, however watched and tended

 



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