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son poem

mon amour vrai de son oreiller a monté
je dois dire bonne nuit
clair de lune profond et tendre
pour ces bras blancs au sujet de mon cou
quelle chance spiteful vole des unawares
ce qui je vous doivent
elle pourrait l'avoir su en ressort premier
tristement parlant
la fille, art de thou viennent pour mourir

 



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