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epic poetry

beautiful
as i lie roofed in, screened in
long ago, in the young moonlight
i saw the clouds among the hills
she burst fierce wine
desolate and lone
sun and wind and beat of sea
in the dark and peace of my final bed
those black eyes i once so praised
i am fevered
is there anybody there
who will be naming the wind
up to her chamber window
in his guarded tent

 



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