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love poetry

gone before us
gaily through the fields we danced
the air is full of dawn and spring
my son is dead and i am going blind
as i lie roofed in, screened in
we break the glass whose sacred wine
the mountains they are silent folk
i have heard that a certain princess
why then, must we see?
stuff of the moon
i saw the clouds among the hills
let me move slowly through the street
tell me

 



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