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african american poetry

when i looked into your eyes
up to her chamber window
i do not pray for peace
sweet with fern and rose
city that is not a city
passing through huddled and ugly walls
why do you always stand there shivering
gone are the three, those sisters rare
rocked in the cradle of the deep
made up of loveliness alone
darkest, strangest mystery
i have seen the proudest stars

 



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