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break up poem

be patient, life, when love is at the gate
her face is fair and smooth and fine
hang no wreath
love me at last, or if you will not
under the harvest moon
i flung my soul to the air like a falcon flying
skies they were ashen and sober
it was a tall young oysterman
never in all my life
i love to steal awhile away
my true love from her pillow rose
mysterious night
like him whose spirit in the blaze of noon

 



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