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love poetry chat

and breaketh bread no more
if i should die, think only this of me
shines the last age, the next with hope is seen
beneath my window in a city street
are you alive?
who will be naming the wind
i despise my friends more than you
the smell of the rose so false, the thorns so true
they threw a stone, you threw a stone
be in me as the eternal moods

 



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