we met nightlyin that church red with needto free our hands of deathbuilding only to go bustholding onblessed as a swan in the palaceour last words washed outwith the rain
beer and cheer and howlform a neighborhoodthe company of kin and othersa bland plentybut so much hurtin an ugly mouththat sings like a glass ruinof the churchso hard to banishall nonconformists
Describe a feeling — we’ll find a poem
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