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funny poetry

why do you always stand there shivering
but alas, just dreams
be in me as the eternal moods
darkest, strangest mystery
you are clear
there was a strangeness on your lips
i am old and blind
in their ragged regimentals
they may talk of love in a cottage
once this soft turf
it is true that you say the gods are more use to you than fairies
winged shadows sweeping by
sleep sweetly in your humble graves
i bid them all farewell

 



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