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grandma poem

i have seen the proudest stars
day is done
my soul goes clad in gorgeous things
the darkness
up from the meadows rich with corn
risen from the dead
before the solemn bronze saint
the pale day drowses on the western steep
behold me, in my chiffon, gauze and tinsel
in his guarded tent
do not turn your head
pharaoh, king of egypt's land

 



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