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thanksgiving poem

this is the song of youth
for truth, for love
those on the top say they know you, earth-they are liars
all within and all without me
gaily through the fields we danced
the rain was over, and the brilliant air
he'd even have his joke
and breaketh bread no more
in the sphere
over the river they beckon to me
love me at last, or if you will not

 



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