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grandma poem

glooms of the live-oaks
high-born race
and how could you dream of meeting
daughter, thou art come to die
why do
i have heard that a certain princess
tell me less or tell me more
out of the sparkling sea
as it
and my name is truthful
in and of itself
what do i owe to you
she has a clear, wind-sheltered loveliness
be not false

 



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