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gothic poetry

the lightning flashed, and lifted
when the veil from the eyes is lifted
tell me
as evening falls
i do not pray for peace
by the shore, by the sea
as a naked man i go
i fill this cup
o fair and stately maid, whose eyes
the little white prayers
night is dark, and the winter winds
there were three in the meadow by the brook
babylon-where i go dreaming
there are gains for all our losses

 



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