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romantic poetry

the darkness
sleep sweetly in your humble graves
here lies a most beautiful lady
now while my lips are living
i stood
be in me as the eternal moods
i am dying
dear wife
to come so soon to this imagined dark
over the river, on the hill
mid pleasures and palaces though we may roam
a thin gray shadow on the edge of thought
when night drifts along the streets of the city
i despise my friends more than you

 



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