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free love poem

woman much missed, how you call to me, call to me
grieve not for the invisible
of sun nor stars
she might have known it in the earlier spring
all within and all without me
at dawn, he said
musing, between the sunset and the dark
all quiet along the potomac
the saddest of the year
by the rude bridge
very well, you liberals
when freedom from her mountain height

 



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