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the lightning flashed, and lifted
all my love for my sweet
with the meek, brown eyes
the fragrance came
out of the deep and the dark
the light withdrawn
the smell of the rose so false, the thorns so true
in september
i think it just splendid
the air is like a butterfly
it is true that you say the gods are more use to you than fairies
and breaketh bread no more
the little white prayers

 



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