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the ships are lying in the bay
a little peach in the orchard grew
against the green flame of the hawthorn-tree
the air is full of dawn and spring
a thin gray shadow on the edge of thought
i am singing to you
do not turn your head
a look is but a ray
the sky
as a naked man i go
what shall we do now
from our hidden places
those black eyes i once so praised

 



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