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christmas poetry

the darkness steals the forms of all the queens
my soul goes clad in gorgeous things
be in me as the eternal moods
when freedom from her mountain height
therefore i may not
my sorrow, when she's here with me
do not turn your head
sing again the song you sung
i am singing to you
a look is but a ray
you are my companion
mid pleasures and palaces though we may roam

 



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