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epic poetry

lo! 'tis a gala night
my soul goes clad in gorgeous things
i think it just splendid
did you ever hear of
woman much missed, how you call to me, call to me
a blue-black nubian plucking oranges
have you not heard
tripping up, falling down
i stood
out of me unworthy and unknown
once this soft turf
a mile behind
in september

 



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