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acrostic poem

o fair and stately maid, whose eyes
had he and i but met
i've won the race
passing through huddled and ugly walls
sweet splendor
shines the last age, the next with hope is seen
little park that i pass through
here falls no light
the child who threw away leaf after leaf
tell me less or tell me more
see, from this counterfeit of him

 



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