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narrative poetry

be not false
the endless, foolish merriment of stars
i shake my hair in the wind of morning
darkest, strangest mystery
why so sad my lovely one?
the sun is up
the old songs
daughters of time
i have seen the proudest stars
these be
when sea-winds pierced our solitudes
i shall see a star tonight
but alas, just dreams
i love the old melodious lays

 



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