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romantic poem

a poet, having taken the bridle off his tongue
to what shall a woman liken her beloved
skies they were ashen and sober
see the tentative
this is the ship of pearl
listen to the sounding sea
desolate and lone
there is an hour of peaceful rest
i was a goddess ere the marble found me
my son is dead and i am going blind
who is the runner in the skies
these be
what spiteful chance steals unawares
tell me

 



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