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over the rooftops race the shadows of clouds
i saw the archangels in my apple-tree last night
and breaketh bread no more
give me hunger
my true love from her pillow rose
dear wife
i cannot always feel his greatness
simply speaking
let us express our baser passions
how wild, how witch-like weird that life should be
muffled drum's sad roll has beat
she was a beauty in the days
you are clear

 



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