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teacher poem

the endless, foolish merriment of stars
the pale day drowses on the western steep
pushing out, struggling vainly
a storm is riding on the tide
i flung my soul to the air like a falcon flying
but i cannot read you now
gaily through the fields we danced
i heard the wind all day
into the silent land
friend, whose smile has come to be
let me be sad
be in me as the eternal moods

 



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