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african american poetry

up to her chamber window
the air is like a butterfly
could we but know
beautiful, tragical faces
sing again the song you sung
daughters of time
with her hair flaying wildly
in his guarded tent
often i think of the beautiful town
when night drifts along the streets of the city
she has a clear, wind-sheltered loveliness
let us plant
you are clear
under dusky laurel leaf

 



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