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prose poetry

sweet with fern and rose
if it
over the river they beckon to me
shines the last age, the next with hope is seen
why do you always stand there shivering
in the sphere
i was a goddess ere the marble found me
long has the summer sunlight shone
and so it goes
as i lie roofed in, screened in
let us plant
at midnight
i saw you hunched and shivering on the stones

 



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