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son poem

be patient, life, when love is at the gate
i love the old melodious lays
while i stood listening, discreetly dumb
as evening falls
in halls of sleep you wandered by
do i like it
perhaps
behold me, in my chiffon, gauze and tinsel
a little peach in the orchard grew
in your arms was still delight
listen to the sounding sea
daughter, thou art come to die
have we no shame?

 



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