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christian poetry

mid pleasures and palaces though we may roam
within this lowly grave a conqueror lies
and so it goes
why then, must we see?
the smell of the rose so false, the thorns so true
sing again the song you sung
up and down he goes
pushing out, struggling vainly
i stand in the cold gray weather
risen from the dead
and with the humming bird
do i like it

 



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