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gothic poetry

as a white candle
thou unrelenting past
mid pleasures and palaces though we may roam
o fair and stately maid, whose eyes
i shall see a star tonight
i do not pray for peace
arched the flood
since, if you stood by my side today
stuff of the moon
truely
when i looked into your eyes
which i wish to remark
from floor to ceiling
gone are the three, those sisters rare

 



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