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def poetry

there were three in the meadow by the brook
why are the things that have no death
i have known the silence of the stars and of the sea
i saw him once before
long ago, in the young moonlight
she limps with halting painful pace
over the rooftops race the shadows of clouds
i love the old melodious lays
a little peach in the orchard grew
beside a stricken field
there was a strangeness on your lips
a pen of steel

 



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