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I LOOK at the swaling sunset | |
And wish I could go also | |
Through the red doors beyond the black-purple bar. | |
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I wish that I could go | |
Through the red doors where I could put off | 5 |
My shame like shoes in the porch, | |
My pain like garments, | |
And leave my flesh discarded lying | |
Like luggage of some departed traveller | |
Gone one knows not where. | 10 |
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Then I would turn round, | |
And seeing my cast-off body lying like lumber, | |
I would laugh with joy. | |
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