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short funny poem

be not false
arched the flood
i make my shroud, but no one knows
beside a stricken field
i know not where
she said
out of the sparkling sea
i fill this cup
night was black and drear
i said, i have shut my heart
along the banks
often is it not so?
the pale day drowses on the western steep
you are beautiful and faded

 



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