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mother poem

algunos de los daños que usted ha curado
dice de buenas viejas épocas
muy bien, usted liberales
raza alto-llevada
el banquete real fue hecho
behold yo, en mi chiffon, gasa y malla
tenemos ninguna vergüenza?
hijas del tiempo
todavía su gris oscila la torre sobre el mar
podríamos sino saber
un destello del oro en gloom y gris
le detesté
usted es hermoso y descolorado

 



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