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sad poem

my sorrow, when she's here with me
at midnight
to clothe the fiery thought
sitting in his rocker waiting for your tea
earth travails
when freedom from her mountain height
i am fevered
for then without
but alas, just dreams
world that changes under my hand
for these white arms about my neck
muffled drum's sad roll has beat
when a deed is done for freedom

 



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