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def poetry

perhaps it is no matter that you died
green afternoon serene and bright
come down at dawn from windless hills
i am the wind that wavers
renew the vision of delight
i do not pray for peace
who loves the rain
the little pitiful, worn, laughing faces
along the banks
thou unrelenting past
sleep, gray brother of death
lo! 'tis a gala night
i said, i have shut my heart
brother, i am fire

 



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