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gothic poetry

soft as the bed in the earth
i said
here lies a most beautiful lady
hang no wreath
short and sweet, and we've come to the end of it
i think it just splendid
i shall see a star tonight
to clothe the fiery thought
out of the deep and the dark
no prey am i of poor thoughts
up from the meadows rich with corn
she was a beauty in the days
sun stepped down from his golden throne

 



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