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romantic love poems

melancholy, blue it was
stir
look out upon the stars, my love
the snow whispers about me
three days i heard them grieve when i lay dead
one sweetly solemn thought
i make my shroud, but no one knows
the pale day drowses on the western steep
had he and i but met
have you not heard
in the cloud-gray mornings
very well, you liberals

 



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