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concrete poetry

sweet and strong
and so it goes
she was a beauty in the days
i see all human wits
night was black and drear
therefore i may not
the single clenched fist lifted and ready
what shall we do now
have you not heard
desolate and lone
she limps with halting painful pace
in mournful numbers
when the hours of day are numbered
my true love from her pillow rose

 



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