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best love poem

sweet splendor
i sometimes wonder if it's really true
i am weary of being bitter and weary of being wise
under the harvest moon
often i think of the beautiful town
i saw the first pear
i said
i despise my friends more than you
if i had known how narrow a prison is love
three days i heard them grieve when i lay dead
gaily through the fields we danced
glass-blower of time
the saddest of the year
still her gray rocks tower above the sea

 



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