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erotic poem

before the solemn bronze saint
tripping up, falling down
up to her chamber window
but alas, just dreams
those on the top say they know you, earth-they are liars
i see all human wits
brief on a flying night
gloom
do you think, my boy, when i put my arms around you
sweet with fern and rose
is there anybody there
a look is but a ray

 



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