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erotic poetry

it was the autumn of the year
sing again the song you sung
i go my way complacently
a little peach in the orchard grew
birds against the april wind
now that i have cooled to you
blossoms of babies
i love to steal awhile away
listen to the sounding sea
the little pitiful, worn, laughing faces
in september
and breaketh bread no more
be in me as the eternal moods
all within and all without me

 



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