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i miss you poem

it is true that you say the gods are more use to you than fairies
the sun is up
storm
this is the song of youth
risen from the dead
love has been sung a thousand ways
lady, your heart has turned to dust
i stood by the open casement
i have known the silence of the stars and of the sea
a blue-black nubian plucking oranges
master of human destinies am i
the sky
had he and i but met

 



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