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math poem

do you think, my boy, when i put my arms around you
to clothe the fiery thought
i see all human wits
the little pitiful, worn, laughing faces
one with you
tell me less or tell me more
the saddest of the year
awful truths these be
there is a city, builded by no hand
last midnight
be patient, life, when love is at the gate

 



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