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love me at last, or if you will not
into the silent land
the little pitiful, worn, laughing faces
when i was broke in london
i have had one fear in my life
on and on
there are three ways in which men take
lived by the river-side
winged shadows sweeping by
a flying word from here and there
the air is full of dawn and spring
the darkness rolls upward
little gate was reached at last
which i wish to remark

 



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