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free love poetry

little gate was reached at last
arched the flood
there is a city, builded by no hand
which keeps
with joy and wonder
i have heard them in the night
to clothe the fiery thought
those black eyes i once so praised
muffled drum's sad roll has beat
in an old chamber softly lit
simplicity
sun stepped down from his golden throne
i walk down the garden paths

 



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