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love poem

softly weeping
at dawn, he said
softly now the light of day
within my hand i hold
now that i have cooled to you
we break the glass whose sacred wine
out of the window a sea of green trees
rose and amber was the sunset on the river
doubtless i remember still
as i lie roofed in, screened in
i had over-prepared the event
up to her chamber window
before the solemn bronze saint

 



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