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marriage poem

beside a stricken field
old wine to drink
mid pleasures and palaces though we may roam
hang no wreath
and my name is truthful
the ships are lying in the bay
do i like it
glooms of the live-oaks
see, from this counterfeit of him
why do you always stand there shivering
bring me soft song
good woman
friend, whose smile has come to be

 



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