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sitting in his rocker waiting for your tea
stir
i know what you're going to say
woman much missed, how you call to me, call to me
long ago, in the young moonlight
better than granite
up to her chamber window
let me be sad
against the green flame of the hawthorn-tree
in your arms was still delight
you say you love me
pharaoh, king of egypt's land
a pen of steel
at midnight

 



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