Email Poem

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Poem	My voice that is for you the languid one, and gentle, Disturbs the velvet of the dark night's mantle, By my bedside, a candle, my sad guard, Burns, and my poems ripple and merge in flood -- And run the streams of love, run, full of you alone, And in the dark, your eyes shine like the precious stones, And smile to me, and hear I the voice: My friend, my sweetest friend... I love... I'm yours... I'm yours!
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