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best love poems

little gate was reached at last
star-dust and vaporous light
i heard the wind all day
just as my fingers on these keys
why do
the air is like a butterfly
there is a country full of wine
o fair and stately maid, whose eyes
there was never a sound beside the wood but one
beside a stricken field
there by the window in the old house
stuff of the moon

 



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