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poem and quote

there was never a sound beside the wood but one
babylon-where i go dreaming
up from the south at break of day
it is true that you say the gods are more use to you than fairies
sad are they who know not love
in may
love me at last, or if you will not
stern cold man
no prey am i of poor thoughts
come down at dawn from windless hills
all down the years
up to her chamber window

 



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