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son poem

a filha, arte do thou vem morrer
envolva a terra no tempo cloudy
quando uma ação for feita para a liberdade
temos nós nenhum shame?
quietamente, com reverance, no awe
eu agito meu cabelo no vento da manhã
acima de e para baixo vai
sob a folha dusky do laurel
sad são que sabem não o amor
um gleam do ouro no gloom e no cinza

 



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