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we were not many
often i think of the beautiful town
let us express our baser passions
the sky
when i looked into your eyes
love me at last, or if you will not
under the harvest moon
and my name is truthful
and with the humming bird
two rows of cabbages
while i stood listening, discreetly dumb
for truth, for love
their beautiful hair
when the hours of day are numbered

 



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