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thanksgiving poem

a few more windy days
evidenced in the glimmer in your eyes
to be able to see every side of every question
melancholy days have come
eighty years have passed, and more
beneath my window in a city street
if i were very sure
calm as that second summer
muffled drum's sad roll has beat
somewhere i read a strange, old, rusty tale
like him whose spirit in the blaze of noon
like eagles on up high

 



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