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suicide poem

the darkness rolls upward
by the rude bridge
therefore i may not
i said, i have shut my heart
when i was broke in london
stay no more
when you come tonight
let a joy keep you
the pale day drowses on the western steep
mid pleasures and palaces though we may roam
out of the window a sea of green trees
and so it goes
a look is but a ray
glooms of the live-oaks

 



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