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poem

from our hidden places
love me at last, or if you will not
take my bracelets
a thousand silent years ago
hang no wreath
within this lowly grave a conqueror lies
sun and wind and beat of sea
look out upon the stars, my love
when the veil from the eyes is lifted
of sun nor stars
who is the runner in the skies
mid pleasures and palaces though we may roam
god
the old west, the old time

 



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