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christmas poetry

pharaoh, king of egypt's land
i was a goddess ere the marble found me
when i was broke in london
i stand in the cold gray weather
daughter, thou art come to die
up to her chamber window
a flying word from here and there
it was a tall young oysterman
now that i have cooled to you
stir
gone are the three, those sisters rare
lived by the river-side
sun stepped down from his golden throne
all those treasures that lie

 



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