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love poem

three days i heard them grieve when i lay dead
burly, dozing humble-bee
tell me less or tell me more
darkest, strangest mystery
braided and woven
the agony of having too much power
splendid and terrible your love
see i give myself to you
i saw the archangels in my apple-tree last night
i heard the wind all day
beneath the warrior's helm

 



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