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friendship poetry

i made a vow once, one only
a very remarkable history this is
in halls of sleep you wandered by
with lips blood red and heart of stone
there is no flock, however watched and tended
now while my lips are living
in an old chamber softly lit
one sweetly solemn thought
up from the meadows rich with corn
it was the autumn of the year
there is a city, builded by no hand

 



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