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dark poetry

i know not where
as a white candle
the old songs
all day to watch the blue wave curl and break
eighty years have passed, and more
a sky that has never known sun, moon or stars
i have to say good-night
the pale day drowses on the western steep
if the red slayer think he slays
when i looked into your eyes
i despise my friends more than you
stern cold man
the lightning flashed, and lifted

 



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