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teacher poem

so lost
mid pleasures and palaces though we may roam
my sorrow, when she's here with me
be in me as the eternal moods
which keeps
for these white arms about my neck
perhaps
why do
where shall i find you
simply speaking
the meadow was creeping
awful truths these be
glooms of the live-oaks
though love repine, and reason chafe

 



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