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math poem

a blue-black nubian plucking oranges
you are my companion
in his guarded tent
rose and amber was the sunset on the river
in their ragged regimentals
what spiteful chance steals unawares
i saw the archangels in my apple-tree last night
darkest, strangest mystery
the smell of the rose so false, the thorns so true
softly now the light of day
stand here by my side
the stars fell from heaven
tripping up, falling down
before the solemn bronze saint

 



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