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mother poem

there was a strangeness on your lips
burly, dozing humble-bee
two rows of cabbages
i shake my hair in the wind of morning
some one complained to the master
i have heard that a certain princess
the swan existing
sun stepped down from his golden throne
stuff of the moon
to come so soon to this imagined dark
when i returned at sunset
roses and gold
she limps with halting painful pace
my soul goes clad in gorgeous things

 



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