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life poetry

love me at last, or if you will not
she limps with halting painful pace
my soul is a dark ploughed field
doubtless i remember still
in the dark and peace of my final bed
within this lowly grave a conqueror lies
rocked in the cradle of the deep
i have heard that a certain princess
often is it not so?
i stood by the open casement
when, full of warm and eager love
just now
how shall i help to right the world that is going wrong

 



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