bless

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Let me imagine that we will come again 
when we want to and it will be spring 
we will be no older than we ever were 
the worn griefs will have eased like the early cloud 
through which the morning slowly comes to itself 
and the ancient defenses against the dead 
will be done with and left to the dead at last 
the light will be as it is now in the garden 
that we have made here these years together 
of our long evenings and astonishment

—W.S. Merwin
To Paula in Late Spring

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