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daughter poem

if i should die, think only this of me
you are clear
melancholy, blue it was
the earth keeps some vibration going
and with the humming bird
my son is dead and i am going blind
my sorrow, when she's here with me
under a spreading chestnut tree
and my name is truthful
why then, must we see?
long has the summer sunlight shone
gaily through the fields we danced

 



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