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love poetry

what spiteful chance steals unawares
all quiet along the potomac
beneath my window in a city street
in september
up from the meadows rich with corn
melancholy, blue it was
as a naked man i go
awful truths these be
you are clear
i went up and down the streets
the sky
i have known the silence of the stars and of the sea
i am fevered

 



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