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poem for dad

my soul goes clad in gorgeous things
little park that i pass through
as it
when freedom from her mountain height
the child who threw away leaf after leaf
these be
i am weary of being bitter and weary of being wise
we were not many
moonlight deep and tender
pharaoh, king of egypt's land
that year
look out upon the stars, my love
bring me soft song
i saw the archangels in my apple-tree last night

 



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