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daughter poem

and so it goes
if the red slayer think he slays
stir
within my hand i hold
i was a goddess ere the marble found me
why do you always stand there shivering
i walk down the garden paths
why then, must we see?
we break the glass whose sacred wine
like him whose spirit in the blaze of noon
while i stood listening, discreetly dumb
gloom
this is the song of youth

 



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