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death poetry

sueño dulce en sus sepulcros humildes
dice de buenas viejas épocas
tres días los oí afligirse cuando pongo absolutamente
pasado implacable del thou
mi alma es un campo arado oscuro
de nuestros lugares ocultados
dulce y fuerte
cuál era él los motores dichos
flores de bebés
en el puerto de York nueva
ahora para una lucha enérgica y alegre
pienso a menudo en la ciudad hermosa

 



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