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Of late
Sunlight seems to kiss, intently
the naked branches of trees
drowning bark
in a last lusty embrace
before the sun sets
on the last day of the Oak
Holly rears in the woods
A peacock
of twig and sap
luring the fickle sun
to crown winter’s bare brow
with rich leaves and fruit
winter’s liege
all trees to him
must bow.

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Edgar Allan Poe

Annabel Lee

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