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The image of the poet's in the breeze |
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Canadian geese are flying above the trees |
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A mist is hanging gently on the lake |
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My house is very beautiful at night |
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My friend and teacher occupies a spare room |
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He's dead, at peace at last the wandering jew |
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Other friends had put stones on his grave |
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He was the first great man that i had ever met |
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Sylvia and i got out our ouija board |
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To dial a spirit, across the room it soared |
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We were happy and amazed at what we saw |
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Blazing stood the proud and regal name delmore |
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Delmore, i missed all your funny ways |
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I missed your jokes and the brilliant things you said |
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My dedalus to your bloom, was such a perfect wit |
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And to find you in my house makes things perfect |
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I really got a lucky life |
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My writing, my motorcycle and my wife |
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And to top it all off a spirit of pure poetry |
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Is living in this stone and wood house with me |
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The image of the poet's in the breeze |
|
Canadian geese are flying above the trees |
|
A mist is hanging gently on the lake |
|
Our house is very beautiful at night |
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Our house is very beautiful at night |
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Our house is very beautiful at night |
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Our house is very beautiful at night |