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missing you poem

with lips blood red and heart of stone
some one complained to the master
her face is fair and smooth and fine
beneath my window in a city street
he speaks not well
all my love for my sweet
the shadows of the ships
out of the window a sea of green trees
in the dark and peace of my final bed
sweet and strong
to what shall a woman liken her beloved
why do you always stand there shivering
along the banks

 



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