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love poems

eu fui acima e trago as ruas
de encontro à flama verde da hawthorn-árvore
esse ano
você é bonito e desvanecido
última meia-noite
eu faço minha saia, mas ninguém sabe
eu tenho que dizer good-night
quando o véu dos olhos for levantado
alguns dos hurts que você se curou
cão do gingham e o gato do calico
baixo! ' tis um a noite do gala
desolado e solitário

 



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