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they threw a stone, you threw a stone
hang no wreath
i have to say good-night
it was a tall young oysterman
what spiteful chance steals unawares
she might have known it in the earlier spring
are you alive?
there was never a sound beside the wood but one
the fragrance came
as i lie roofed in, screened in
woman much missed, how you call to me, call to me
i have cast the world
the hypocritic days

 



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