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wedding poetry

over the river, on the hill
when i looked into your eyes
just as my fingers on these keys
simply speaking
there is a city, builded by no hand
i can not tell you now
wheel me down by the meadow
softly weeping
daughter, thou art come to die
from song and dream for ever gone
musing, between the sunset and the dark
at dawn, he said
all quiet along the potomac
the old west, the old time


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