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love poetry chat

when the hours of day are numbered
i saw the clouds among the hills
high-born race
when, full of warm and eager love
within this lowly grave a conqueror lies
there is a country full of wine
night was black and drear
passing through huddled and ugly walls
were it not for that singular smell
my true love from her pillow rose
i have come into the desert because my soul is athirst
it tells of good old times
there are gains for all our losses

 



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