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poem

as i lie roofed in, screened in
still her gray rocks tower above the sea
in an old chamber softly lit
under the harvest moon
a mist was driving down
do not grieve that it is over
the pale day drowses on the western steep
hang no wreath
give me hunger
there's one that i once loved so much
here lies a most beautiful lady
do i like it
soft as the bed in the earth

 



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