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type of poetry

thoughts through my head
if i should die, think only this of me
sun and wind and beat of sea
before the solemn bronze saint
what do i owe to you
here lies a most beautiful lady
splendid and terrible your love
i have heard that a certain princess
if i were very sure
i bid them all farewell
i despise my friends more than you
woman much missed, how you call to me, call to me

 



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