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love poetry

sun stepped down from his golden throne
there are three ways in which men take
it was a tall young oysterman
i walk down the garden paths
darkest, strangest mystery
though i am little as all little things
those black eyes i once so praised
simplicity
take my bracelets
by the shore, by the sea
therefore i may not
be not false
when night drifts along the streets of the city

 



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