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african american poetry

though i am little as all little things
the arches of the red bridge
we who stood
do the boys and girls still go
a look is but a ray
you say you love me
you are beautiful and faded
afraid no more, i say
there was a time in former years
it tells of good old times
are you awake?
it was the autumn of the year
in an old chamber softly lit

 



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