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thanksgiving poetry

when, full of warm and eager love
there is a city, builded by no hand
a thin gray shadow on the edge of thought
thoughts through my head
i reside at table mountain
up to her chamber window
it was the autumn of the year
he came and took me by the hand
to what shall a woman liken her beloved
our pleasant moments fly
give me
now for a brisk and cheerful fight
be in me as the eternal moods

 



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