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friendship poems

wheel me down by the meadow
musing, between the sunset and the dark
he speaks not well
in your arms was still delight
she heard the children playing in the sun
what spiteful chance steals unawares
under the harvest moon
i despise my friends more than you
when freedom from her mountain height
lo! 'tis a gala night
it was a tall young oysterman
afraid no more, i say
my sorrow, when she's here with me
have you not heard

 



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