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autumn poem

there were three in the meadow by the brook
since i have felt the sense of death
it is true that you say the gods are more use to you than fairies
softly weeping
the fragrance came
had he and i but met
this is the ship of pearl
when the wind works against us in the dark
sadly speaking
those on the top say they know you, earth-they are liars
beside a stricken field

 



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