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love poems

i went up and down the streets
against the green flame of the hawthorn-tree
that year
you are beautiful and faded
last midnight
i make my shroud, but no one knows
i have to say good-night
when the veil from the eyes is lifted
some of the hurts you have cured
gingham dog and the calico cat
lo! 'tis a gala night
desolate and lone

 



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