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religious poem

my mother twines me roses wet with dew
weak-winged is song
if i were very sure
somewhere i read a strange, old, rusty tale
when i go back to earth
did you ever see an alligator
a little peach in the orchard grew
i am weary of being bitter and weary of being wise
hang no wreath
afraid no more, i say
eighty years have passed, and more

 



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