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sun and wind and beat of sea
they ask me where i've been
a poet, having taken the bridle off his tongue
i expect you
be not angry with me
she might have known it in the earlier spring
if i should die, think only this of me
come down at dawn from windless hills
i think it just splendid
i stood by the open casement
i love to steal awhile away
high walls and huge

 



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