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sister poem

somewhere i read a strange, old, rusty tale
i said, i have shut my heart
but i cannot read you now
out of the deep and the dark
in an old chamber softly lit
he'd even have his joke
still her gray rocks tower above the sea
darkest, strangest mystery
to what shall a woman liken her beloved
it is true that you say the gods are more use to you than fairies

 



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