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love poem

eighty years have passed, and more
love has been sung a thousand ways
all quiet along the potomac
night was black and drear
babylon-where i go dreaming
all my love for my sweet
sad are they who know not love
what was it the engines said
a blue-black nubian plucking oranges
which i wish to remark
there's one that i once loved so much
be not angry with me
of sun nor stars
into the silent land

 



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