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sad love poem

she has a clear, wind-sheltered loveliness
be not false
to what shall a woman liken her beloved
i have come into the desert because my soul is athirst
i have heard them in the night
the hypocritic days
last night the full moon laid a cloth of white
stay no more
under the harvest moon
i despise my friends more than you
splendid and terrible your love

 



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