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graduation poem

the air is like a butterfly
a little peach in the orchard grew
moonlight deep and tender
look out upon the stars, my love
i am in love with high far-seeing places
in your arms was still delight
city that is not a city
a storm is riding on the tide
therefore i may not
i am the wind that wavers
be not false
when i returned at sunset
sad are they who know not love
a gleam of gold in gloom and gray

 



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