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when the wind works against us in the dark
perhaps it is no matter that you died
burly, dozing humble-bee
with her hair flaying wildly
the hypocritic days
not from the whole wide world
along a river-side
what shall we do now
i cannot always feel his greatness
in the dark and peace of my final bed
star-dust and vaporous light
she has a clear, wind-sheltered loveliness
one sweetly solemn thought

 



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