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sad poetry

little park that i pass through
have you seen walking through the village
gingham dog and the calico cat
let us plant
o fair and stately maid, whose eyes
arched the flood
within my hand i hold
hang no wreath
we break the glass whose sacred wine
you are clear
i have to say good-night
i can not tell you now
lived by the river-side
she knows a cheap release

 



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