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thanksgiving poem

over the river they beckon to me
i loved a woman
i am old and blind
she burst fierce wine
did you ever see an alligator
she might have known it in the earlier spring
if the red slayer think he slays
could we but know
when i was broke in london
what spiteful chance steals unawares
if i should die, think only this of me
within my hand i hold
sweet splendor

 



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