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A Poet to His Beloved

I bring you with reverent hands

The books of my numberless dreams

White woman that passion has worn

As the tide wears the dove-grey sands,

And with heart more old than the horn

That is brimmed from the pale fire of time White woman with numberless dreams,

I bring you my passionate rhyme. TUGdCtV+3wE2e/dnBByCQUPxy+d7pZp80zbOVIyV0wFxwVMynFh9YEFSY0h1Ywz9

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