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erotic poetry

a poet, having taken the bridle off his tongue
therefore i may not
woman much missed, how you call to me, call to me
along the banks
the light withdrawn
i had a dream and i awoke with it
if i should die, think only this of me
let us plant
there is a city, builded by no hand
melancholy days have come
sweet with fern and rose
i made a vow once, one only
the agony of having too much power
and with the humming bird

 



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