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romantic love poems

what do i owe to you
so lost
o fair and stately maid, whose eyes
if i should die, think only this of me
there is no flock, however watched and tended
are you awake?
she burst fierce wine
the saddest of the year
one sweetly solemn thought
there was a strangeness on your lips
i reside at table mountain
i love my hour of wind and light
my soul is a dark ploughed field
the old west, the old time

 



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