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anniversary poem

the darkness rolls upward
darkest, strangest mystery
gone are the three, those sisters rare
my mother taught me that every night
which i wish to remark
her face is fair and smooth and fine
when i was broke in london
there is no flock, however watched and tended
for truth, for love
this is the song of youth
i have had one fear in my life
how wild, how witch-like weird that life should be
a look is but a ray

 



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