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inspirational poem

with lips blood red and heart of stone
if the red slayer think he slays
happiness
now for a brisk and cheerful fight
let us plant
my soul is a dark ploughed field
i know not where
i am weary of being bitter and weary of being wise
i have seen the proudest stars
what shall we do now
what spiteful chance steals unawares
i think it just splendid
leave the lovely words unsaid

 



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