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best love poem

it is true that you say the gods are more use to you than fairies
and as we walked the grass was faintly stirred
as evening falls
in all things not spoken of
calm as that second summer
daughter, thou art come to die
in the sphere
the shadows of the ships
look out upon the stars, my love
gingham dog and the calico cat
in their ragged regimentals

 



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