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thank you poem

o fair and stately maid, whose eyes
quietly, with reverance, in awe
it tells of good old times
along a river-side
there was a strangeness on your lips
where shall i find you
leave the lovely words unsaid
do i like it
a mist was driving down
little gate was reached at last
have you seen walking through the village
i shake my hair in the wind of morning
i am the wind that wavers

 



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