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doubtless i remember still
it tells of good old times
the long resounding marble corridors
very well, you liberals
she has a clear, wind-sheltered loveliness
in new york harbor
my son is dead and i am going blind
a thin gray shadow on the edge of thought
up from the south at break of day
by the shore, by the sea
i saw with open eyes
leave the lovely words unsaid
muffled drum's sad roll has beat
often is it not so?

 



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