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child poem

talvez não é nenhuma matéria que você morreu
é verdadeiro que você diz que os deuses lhe são mais uso do que fairies
quando o véu dos olhos for levantado
cão do gingham e o gato do calico
eu sou uma mulher
como um homem despido mim vai
baixo! ' tis um a noite do gala
pela ponte rude
desolado e solitário
estes sejam
pássaros de encontro ao vento de abril

 



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