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suicide poem

up to her chamber window
will you glimmer on the sea?
we break the glass whose sacred wine
i walk down the garden paths
a poet, having taken the bridle off his tongue
if i were very sure
take my bracelets
evidenced in the glimmer in your eyes
my mother twines me roses wet with dew
i stand in the cold gray weather
when, full of warm and eager love
mysterious night
now that i have cooled to you
weak-winged is song

 



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