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sorry poem

i walk down the garden paths
where shall i find you
gingham dog and the calico cat
i am singing to you
and breaketh bread no more
when i looked into your eyes
mid pleasures and palaces though we may roam
daughter, thou art come to die
it is true that you say the gods are more use to you than fairies
still her gray rocks tower above the sea
if i were very sure

 



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