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funeral poem

shadows lay along broadway
i fill this cup
melancholy, blue it was
my sorrow, when she's here with me
beneath my window in a city street
with her hair flaying wildly
what spiteful chance steals unawares
calm as that second summer
up to her chamber window
in the cloud-gray mornings
lo! 'tis a gala night
little park that i pass through
have we no shame?
it was a tall young oysterman

 



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