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An Impromptu

Rating: 2.8

Not premeditated


THE clock has struck noon; ere it thrice tell the hours
We shall meet round the table that blushes with flowers,
And I shall blush deeper with shame-driven blood
That I came to the banquet and brought not a bud.

Who cares that his verse is a beggar in art
If you see through its rags the full throb of his heart?

Who asks if his comrade is battered and tanned
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7/19/2021 3:43:34 AM # 1.0.0.663