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famous poetry

my true love from her pillow rose
world that changes under my hand
a mist was driving down
she was a beauty in the days
so fallen
out of the window a sea of green trees
she must go back, she said
if the red slayer think he slays
in halls of sleep you wandered by
the arches of the red bridge
better than granite
to come so soon to this imagined dark

 



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