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i miss you poem

she was a beauty in the days
my soul is a dark ploughed field
there are three ways in which men take
what do i owe to you
i hold your heart
if i had known how narrow a prison is love
gloom
with lips blood red and heart of stone
over the river, on the hill
had he and i but met
god
the little white prayers
to what shall a woman liken her beloved
do not grieve that it is over

 



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