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erotic poem

gone are the three, those sisters rare
if i were very sure
quietly, with reverance, in awe
a flying word from here and there
my son is dead and i am going blind
the little white prayers
night was black and drear
these be
the ships are lying in the bay
death's nobility again
it was a tall young oysterman
i loved a woman
i gazed upon the glorious sky

 



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