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erotic poem

see, from this counterfeit of him
at midnight
my true love from her pillow rose
what do i owe to you
in an old chamber softly lit
rocked in the cradle of the deep
for i was a gaunt, grave councillor
the rain was over, and the brilliant air
i go my way complacently
how shall i help to right the world that is going wrong
along the banks

 



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