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erotic poetry

the little pitiful, worn, laughing faces
at dawn, he said
i think it just splendid
just now
over the river, on the hill
we lay
mid pleasures and palaces though we may roam
suddenly, out of dark and leafy ways
i saw with open eyes
why so sad my lovely one?
give me
day is done
night is dark, and the winter winds
from floor to ceiling

 



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