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romantic poetry

i am dying
he's gone
often i think of the beautiful town
death's nobility again
it was many and many a year ago
good woman
and still they walked on
where shall i find you
i love to steal awhile away
in halls of sleep you wandered by
burly, dozing humble-bee
i know not where
under a spreading chestnut tree
she has a clear, wind-sheltered loveliness

 



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