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free love poem

into the silent land
the rain was over, and the brilliant air
over the river, on the hill
my soul is a dark ploughed field
and so it goes
there are gains for all our losses
o fair and stately maid, whose eyes
i am in love with high far-seeing places
a blue-black nubian plucking oranges
tell me
under the harvest moon
day is done

 



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