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african american poetry

their beautiful hair
o fair and stately maid, whose eyes
the darkness rolls upward
days endeared to every muse
passing through huddled and ugly walls
often is it not so?
in their ragged regimentals
under dusky laurel leaf
splendid and terrible your love
i burn no incense
god
the air is like a butterfly
out of the window a sea of green trees
i reside at table mountain

 



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