| We mourned you
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| Before you were born
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| Shed tears for all you’d never know
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| The quiet bite of fresh snow
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| The cry forlorn
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| Of insects and sparrows
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| Wind in the trees, harvesting
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| Drained leaves, splendor-worn
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| Or scattering dew, in the dregs of spring
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| An August sun that hangs warm
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| And nurtures the earth’s largesse
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| Not some fatal furnace
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| Suspended in darkness
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| For these, we mourned
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| You inherit the dust, sons and daughters
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| Perfect silence, endless summer
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| And you’ll live, live, live
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| Fierce and hardened
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| By the end, forever nigh
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| You’ll scavenge fat
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| From the land’s shriveled carcass
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| But never thrive, never forgive
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| Us, who drank the world dry
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| And thirsting still, poured you in
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| Whose same spasms blind
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| Bind you by the brainstem
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| And so you’ll strive
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| Through the heat and the stillness
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| With a strength we could not teach
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| For it was nature’s to give
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| You inherit the dust, sons and daughters
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| Perfect silence, endless summer |