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dark poetry

i stand in the cold gray weather
with lips blood red and heart of stone
i flung my soul to the air like a falcon flying
perhaps
out of me unworthy and unknown
i wonder where you live
sweet splendor
in and of itself
up and down he goes
against the green flame of the hawthorn-tree
i saw the archangels in my apple-tree last night
sitting in his rocker waiting for your tea
often i think of the beautiful town
lived by the river-side

 



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