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life poem

they may talk of love in a cottage
long ago, in the young moonlight
as a naked man i go
when sea-winds pierced our solitudes
he speaks not well
you are clear
with her hair flaying wildly
by the rude bridge
while i stood listening, discreetly dumb
very well, you liberals
high walls and huge
the meadow was creeping
do not grieve that it is over
if i had known how narrow a prison is love

 



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