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love poem

a noite era preta e drear
de encontro à flama verde da hawthorn-árvore
sono, irmão cinzento da morte
embora eu sou pouco como todas as coisas pequenas
eliminar, esforçando-se vainly
dentro de minha mão eu prendo
os navios estão encontrando-se na baía
eu penso d esplêndido justo
esteja em mim como os modos eternal
eu tenho que dizer good-night

 



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