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wedding poem

my soul goes clad in gorgeous things
i have come into the desert because my soul is athirst
here falls no light
this ancient silver bowl of mine
how shall i help to right the world that is going wrong
there was a strangeness on your lips
for then without
it is true that you say the gods are more use to you than fairies
there were three in the meadow by the brook
love me at last, or if you will not

 



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