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fall poetry

it was the autumn of the year
i saw the archangels in my apple-tree last night
i love to steal awhile away
melancholy days have come
a poet, having taken the bridle off his tongue
the lightning flashed, and lifted
if i were very sure
i expect you
she must go back, she said
i can not tell you now
how wild, how witch-like weird that life should be
royal feast was done
the agony of having too much power
i've won the race

 



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