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math poem

somewhere i read a strange, old, rusty tale
and breaketh bread no more
up to her chamber window
a blue-black nubian plucking oranges
passing through huddled and ugly walls
there was a time in former years
i love my life, but not too well
the lightning flashed, and lifted
just now
here lies a most beautiful lady
in an old chamber softly lit
i am in love with high far-seeing places
she knows a cheap release

 



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