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black poetry

look out upon the stars, my love
do i like it
all those treasures that lie
mid pleasures and palaces though we may roam
never in all my life
the meadow was creeping
i make my shroud, but no one knows
it was many and many a year ago
i have heard them in the night
when i was broke in london
last night the full moon laid a cloth of white

 



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