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love poetry

o justo y stately criada, que ojos
el más triste del año
suave como la cama en la tierra
y como caminamos la hierba fue revuelta débilmente
cuando era adaptó Londres
una pluma del acero
no esté enojado con mí
el amor se ha cantado mil maneras
no hay multitud, no obstante está mirado y tendido
hace de largo la luz del sol del verano brillar
la oscuridad rueda hacia arriba
por las mañanas nube-grises
sobre los tejados compita con las sombras de nubes
¡bajo!' tis a la noche de la gala

 



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