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love poetry

out of the sparkling sea
have you heard
in the dark and peace of my final bed
it is true that you say the gods are more use to you than fairies
come down at dawn from windless hills
with the meek, brown eyes
when freedom from her mountain height
within this lowly grave a conqueror lies
and still they walked on
these hearts were woven of human joys and cares

 



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