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halloween poem

above them all, looking down
once this soft turf
it tells of good old times
see, from this counterfeit of him
beneath the warrior's helm
the air is like a butterfly
be not angry with me
i love my hour of wind and light
burly, dozing humble-bee
mid pleasures and palaces though we may roam
i was a goddess ere the marble found me
there were three in the meadow by the brook

 



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