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teen poem

je me suis tenu
sommeil gentiment dans vos tombes humbles
quelque part j'ai lu un conte étrange, vieux, rouillé
vous avez marche vue par le village
short et doux, et nous sommes arrivés à la fin de lui
une lueur d'or dans le gloom et le gris
affligez-vous pas pour l'invisible
contre la flamme verte de l'aubépine-arbre
ne soyez pas fâché avec moi

 



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