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type of poem

her face is fair and smooth and fine
i loathed you
sad are they who know not love
stay no more
happiness
when a deed is done for freedom
it was the autumn of the year
when sea-winds pierced our solitudes
all those treasures that lie
brother, i am fire
i can not tell you now
the saddest of the year
as a naked man i go
there is an hour of peaceful rest

 



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