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romantic poetry

a very remarkable history this is
were it not for that singular smell
i had a dream and i awoke with it
simplicity
when night drifts along the streets of the city
how like the stars are these white, nameless faces
it was the autumn of the year
eighty years have passed, and more
the child who threw away leaf after leaf
when freedom from her mountain height
i was a goddess ere the marble found me
gingham dog and the calico cat
a few more windy days

 



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