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type of poem

all quiet along the potomac
a life on the ocean wave
with lips blood red and heart of stone
world that changes under my hand
her face is fair and smooth and fine
where shall i find you
were it not for that singular smell
glooms of the live-oaks
the agony of having too much power
i saw the archangels in my apple-tree last night
beside a stricken field
i had over-prepared the event
i loved a woman

 



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