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spanish poem

have you not heard
let a joy keep you
to what shall a woman liken her beloved
little gate was reached at last
all quiet along the potomac
one with you
were it not for that singular smell
they threw a stone, you threw a stone
music i heard with you was more than music
if i should die, think only this of me
had he and i but met
within this lowly grave a conqueror lies

 



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