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free love poem

winged shadows sweeping by
fat black bucks in a wine-barrel room
beneath the warrior's helm
against the green flame of the hawthorn-tree
a little peach in the orchard grew
now for a brisk and cheerful fight
royal feast was done
let me move slowly through the street
lived by the river-side
and my name is truthful
often is it not so?
muffled drum's sad roll has beat
candles toppling sideways in tomato cans
the pale day drowses on the western steep

 



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