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narrative poetry

muffled drum's sad roll has beat
with lips blood red and heart of stone
it was many and many a year ago
never in all my life
is there anybody there
the long resounding marble corridors
just as my fingers on these keys
the air is like a butterfly
have you seen walking through the village
beneath the warrior's helm
to some the fat gods
my mother twines me roses wet with dew
all my love for my sweet

 



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