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Caught in a Net

 Upon her breast her hands and hair 
Were tangled all together.
The moon of June forbade me not — The golden night time weather In balmy sighs commanded me To kiss them like a feather.
Her looming hair, her burning hands, Were tangled black and white.
My face I buried there.
I pray — So far from her to-night — For grace, to dream I kiss her soul Amid the black and white.

by Vachel Lindsay
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