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grandmother poem

high-born race
once this soft turf
do i like it
see, they return
the meadow was creeping
she burst fierce wine
here lies a most beautiful lady
brief on a flying night
rising moon has hid the stars
stand here by my side
i have known the silence of the stars and of the sea
behold me, in my chiffon, gauze and tinsel
under the harvest moon

 



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