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i miss you poem

in mournful numbers
i have heard them in the night
i fill this cup
and so it goes
their beautiful hair
three days i heard them grieve when i lay dead
these be
what shall we do now
arched the flood
eighty years have passed, and more
by the rude bridge
never in all my life
shades of night were falling fast
come down at dawn from windless hills

 



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