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Prime Post by :robre14 Category :Poems Author :Amy Lowell Date :September 2011 Read :3467

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Prime

Your voice is like bells over roofs at dawn
When a bird flies
And the sky changes to a fresher color.

Speak, speak, Beloved.
Say little things
For my ears to catch
And run with them to my heart.

(The end)
Amy Lowell's poem: Prime

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