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fall poem

with the meek, brown eyes
i heard the wind all day
i have come into the desert because my soul is athirst
you are clear
the endless, foolish merriment of stars
there is a city, builded by no hand
did you ever hear of
made up of loveliness alone
leave the lovely words unsaid
be in me as the eternal moods
before the solemn bronze saint

 



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