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wedding poetry

era muitas e muito um ano há
pela ponte rude
sob a lua da colheita
através do peito aching da terra larga
uma vez este turf macio
se eu morrer, pense somente disto de mim
olhe para fora em cima das estrelas, meu amor
quando eu era quebrou em Londres
passado unrelenting do thou
f4-lo ouvem-se sempre de

 



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