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erotic poetry

god
but alas, just dreams
in new york harbor
he's gone
those black eyes i once so praised
among the smoke and fog of a december afternoon
in his guarded tent
a few more windy days
in their ragged regimentals
be not false
muffled drum's sad roll has beat
the arches of the red bridge
i never knew the earth had so much gold
musing, between the sunset and the dark

 



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