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free love poem

like him whose spirit in the blaze of noon
a blue-black nubian plucking oranges
there was a strangeness on your lips
this is the song of youth
a thin gray shadow on the edge of thought
i saw the archangels in my apple-tree last night
but alas, just dreams
do i like it
there is a city, builded by no hand
birds against the april wind
from song and dream for ever gone
she limps with halting painful pace
in halls of sleep you wandered by

 



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