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thank you poem

be patient, life, when love is at the gate
arched the flood
doubtless i remember still
for i was a gaunt, grave councillor
gone are the three, those sisters rare
in your arms was still delight
let us plant
be not angry with me
how wild, how witch-like weird that life should be
my true love from her pillow rose
which i wish to remark

 



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