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pastor appreciation poem

Töchter der Zeit
Überschreiten durch die huddled und häßlichen Wände
noch dreizehn Jahre
wie er wer Geist in der Flamme des Mittages
niedrig! ' tis ein Galanacht
die langen resounding Marmorflure
ein Himmel, der nie Sonne, Mond oder Sterne gekannt hat
häufig denke ich an die schöne Stadt

 



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