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math poem

i saw the archangels in my apple-tree last night
which i wish to remark
from floor to ceiling
i was a goddess ere the marble found me
so lost
braided and woven
why so sad my lovely one?
the swan existing
a gleam of gold in gloom and gray
why are the things that have no death
she was a beauty in the days
i had over-prepared the event

 



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