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free online love poem

our pleasant moments fly
tell me not
she knows a cheap release
i burn no incense
my mother twines me roses wet with dew
in mournful numbers
muffled drum's sad roll has beat
little gate was reached at last
i have to say good-night
and so it goes
a little peach in the orchard grew
i make my shroud, but no one knows
tripping up, falling down

 



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