Thursday, 9 February 2012

I have been here before, but when or how I cannot tell:
I know the grass beyond the door,
The sweet keen smell, the sighing sound, the lights around the shore.
You have been mine before - How long ago I may not know:
But just when at that swallow's soar, your neck turned so,
Some veil did fall, - I knew it all of yore.


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