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sad death poem

quietly, with reverance, in awe
her face is fair and smooth and fine
i expect you
why so sad my lovely one?
woman much missed, how you call to me, call to me
sleep, gray brother of death
the child who threw away leaf after leaf
i loathed you
when i looked into your eyes
i saw with open eyes
lo! 'tis a gala night
with her hair flaying wildly

 



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