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fall poetry

love has been sung a thousand ways
lo! 'tis a gala night
sun and wind and beat of sea
melancholy, blue it was
the endless, foolish merriment of stars
high-born race
o fair and stately maid, whose eyes
he's gone
and as we walked the grass was faintly stirred
to clothe the fiery thought
moonlight deep and tender
day is done

 



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