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poem

see i give myself to you
mid pleasures and palaces though we may roam
very well, you liberals
the old songs
with joy and wonder
i burn no incense
why do you always stand there shivering
thou unrelenting past
did you ever hear of
lived by the river-side
melancholy days have come
she burst fierce wine
fat black bucks in a wine-barrel room
in their ragged regimentals

 



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