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gothic poetry

and as we walked the grass was faintly stirred
do not turn your head
i stood
for i was a gaunt, grave councillor
quietly, with reverance, in awe
one by one, like leaves from a tree
a life on the ocean wave
some one complained to the master
listen to the sounding sea
there is a country full of wine
happiness
give me
long ago, in the young moonlight
candles toppling sideways in tomato cans

 



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