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concrete poetry

el cielo
la noche era negra y drear
contra la llama verde del espino-a'rbol
los he oído en la noche
una historia muy notable esto es
aunque soy poco como todas las pequeñas cosas
dígame
la hija, arte del thou viene morir
en pueda
algunos días más ventosos
cuál deseo comentar
los cielos que eran ashen y sobrio
caído tan
porqué son las cosas que no tienen ninguna muerte

 



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