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The dear one with kind eyes
I wish she would speak to me
and I might hear the sound of gold
if she should say my name
never have I known her
once again a lost poet
always dust and never gold
the dear one with kind eyes
has never seen me
and I might never know her voice
I have not yet learned her name
though her sound echoes now and then
always dust and never gold
once again my dear lost poet
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