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gothic poetry

had he and i but met
my soul is a dark ploughed field
the shadows of the ships
o fair and stately maid, whose eyes
woman much missed, how you call to me, call to me
let a joy keep you
pharaoh, king of egypt's land
here falls no light
are you awake?
in an old chamber softly lit
a blue-black nubian plucking oranges

 



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