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dark poetry

thou unrelenting past
i know not where
as it
music i heard with you was more than music
lived by the river-side
a sky that has never known sun, moon or stars
love has been sung a thousand ways
he's gone
at dawn, he said
the little pitiful, worn, laughing faces
up from the meadows rich with corn
winged shadows sweeping by
though love repine, and reason chafe

 



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