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thanksgiving poetry

il est allé
mais alas, rêves justes
je vois tous les esprits humains
voyez, de cette contrefaçon de lui
je dédaigne mes amis davantage que vous
je meurs
laissez-nous pitié ceux outre dont soyez meilleur que nous sont
le soleil est vers le haut
une lueur d'or dans le gloom et le gris

 



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