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my true love from her pillow rose
the old west, the old time
through the broad earth's aching breast
here falls no light
but alas, just dreams
do i like it
in all things not spoken of
the air is like a butterfly
with joy and wonder
sun and wind and beat of sea
mysterious night
i saw the archangels in my apple-tree last night
one with you
the ancient songs

 



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