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angel poem

i am fevered
do i like it
i am dying
daughter, thou art come to die
against the green flame of the hawthorn-tree
do not grieve that it is over
look out upon the stars, my love
i never knew the earth had so much gold
be not angry with me
all within and all without me
the earth keeps some vibration going
could we but know
in the sphere

 



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