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anniversary poetry

the agony of having too much power
from floor to ceiling
i am old and blind
for then without
these hearts were woven of human joys and cares
all quiet along the potomac
she has a clear, wind-sheltered loveliness
i can not tell you now
all those treasures that lie
good woman
noises that strive to tear
it is true that you say the gods are more use to you than fairies
their beautiful hair

 



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