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the old songs
made up of loveliness alone
sadly speaking
with the sunset
a look is but a ray
once this soft turf
just as my fingers on these keys
how wild, how witch-like weird that life should be
he speaks not well
did you ever see an alligator
above them all, looking down
high walls and huge
gone are the three, those sisters rare
sun and wind and beat of sea

 



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