In a time of great hunger and danger
I can vividly hardly imagine
She wrote poems about buses
And swans and loved the rich
But mostly she sang like a nightingale
The loneliest songs of praise
With great pitch and valor
Until she took love too far
And it dragged her down
Just so she could watch
Every motion of its unfolding
Forsaking even heaven
Just to live enough
To write it all down
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