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poetry poem

star-dust and vaporous light
this ancient silver bowl of mine
i loved a woman
it was many and many a year ago
the pale day drowses on the western steep
i have known the silence of the stars and of the sea
from our hidden places
there is no flock, however watched and tended
who loves the rain
when night drifts along the streets of the city
i am weary of being bitter and weary of being wise

 



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