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broken heart poem

though love repine, and reason chafe
see, from this counterfeit of him
there was a strangeness on your lips
for these white arms about my neck
once this soft turf
rocked in the cradle of the deep
who will be naming the wind
we lay
i do not pray for peace
very well, you liberals
the body may confine
what do i owe to you
some one complained to the master

 



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