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poem

if i had known how narrow a prison is love
i am a woman
in mournful numbers
now that i have cooled to you
if the red slayer think he slays
in halls of sleep you wandered by
we who stood
up from the south at break of day
i had over-prepared the event
sun and wind and beat of sea
beneath the warrior's helm
truely
he came and took me by the hand
she was a beauty in the days

 



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