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sad poem

mid pleasures and palaces though we may roam
why so sad my lovely one?
see, from this counterfeit of him
will you glimmer on the sea?
if it
be in me as the eternal moods
there was a strangeness on your lips
the mountains they are silent folk
in their ragged regimentals
under a spreading chestnut tree
in the sphere
though love repine, and reason chafe
i made a vow once, one only
up from the meadows rich with corn

 



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