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def poetry

mit den meek, braunen Augen
ich gehe meine Weise complacently
das endlose, dumme merriment der Sterne
es gibt ein, das dieses i einmal so sehr liebte
Sonne trat unten von seinem goldenen Throne
nehmen Sie meine Bracelets
bleiben Sie nicht mehr
grünes Nachmittagsserene und hell
ich liebe die alten melodious Lagen
meine zutreffende Liebe von ihrem Kissen stieg
obwohl ich wenig als alle kleinen Sachen bin
der alte Westen, die alte Zeit

 



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