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why do you always stand there shivering
three days i heard them grieve when i lay dead
i heard the wind all day
babylon-where i go dreaming
perhaps it is no matter that you died
woman much missed, how you call to me, call to me
the little white prayers
this is the ship of pearl
my soul goes clad in gorgeous things
my son is dead and i am going blind
soft as the bed in the earth
sweet with fern and rose
two rows of cabbages

 



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