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thanksgiving poem

if i should die, think only this of me
she heard the children playing in the sun
when the wind works against us in the dark
the meadow was creeping
to clothe the fiery thought
the air is full of dawn and spring
noises that strive to tear
since, if you stood by my side today
look back with longing eyes and know that i will follow
under dusky laurel leaf
softly weeping
the body may confine

 



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