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sister poem

my soul goes clad in gorgeous things
the little pitiful, worn, laughing faces
as i lie roofed in, screened in
shades of night were falling fast
like him whose spirit in the blaze of noon
all my love for my sweet
a pen of steel
pushing out, struggling vainly
earth travails
i can not tell you now
by the rude bridge
glooms of the live-oaks

 



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