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modern poetry

when i was a boy at college
melancholy days have come
grieve not for the invisible
hang no wreath
we break the glass whose sacred wine
my sorrow, when she's here with me
shadows lay along broadway
perhaps it is no matter that you died
let us plant
since i have felt the sense of death
when the veil from the eyes is lifted
backward, turn backward
doubtless i remember still

 



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