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short funny poem

it is true that you say the gods are more use to you than fairies
under the harvest moon
into the silent land
when, full of warm and eager love
awful truths these be
sleep sweetly in your humble graves
i saw you hunched and shivering on the stones
see i give myself to you
just now
you say you love me
i flung my soul to the air like a falcon flying
there is no escape by the river

 



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