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love poetry

to what shall a woman liken her beloved
melancholy, blue it was
you are clear
daughter, thou art come to die
roses and gold
he came and took me by the hand
will you glimmer on the sea?
behold me, in my chiffon, gauze and tinsel
be in me as the eternal moods
i am old and blind
be not angry with me
and so it goes
night was black and drear

 



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