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concrete poetry

grieve not for the invisible
master of human destinies am i
when i looked into your eyes
the rain was over, and the brilliant air
she limps with halting painful pace
i walk down the garden paths
here falls no light
somewhere i read a strange, old, rusty tale
all my love for my sweet
woman much missed, how you call to me, call to me
wheel me down by the meadow
mid pleasures and palaces though we may roam
all within and all without me

 



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