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Elmurmurings, issue 3, August 1944
Page 5
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Poetry Department When apple-trees, like naked girls, Dance through my heart and soul; And water swirls in foamy curls My rapture-song beyond control --My barcarolle! Whose notes unroll the singing scroll of love. When crunchy ice, like popcorn balls, Covers the country-side: When winter squalls with moaning calls, Allure my soul to run and slide With giant stride-- Then you deride and gently chide, my love. Although the months, like monkeys' tears, Stealthily come and go; I still admire your passion-fire Whose buried sweetness I well know, Dear cameo! Seraglio in embryo: my love.
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Poetry Department When apple-trees, like naked girls, Dance through my heart and soul; And water swirls in foamy curls My rapture-song beyond control --My barcarolle! Whose notes unroll the singing scroll of love. When crunchy ice, like popcorn balls, Covers the country-side: When winter squalls with moaning calls, Allure my soul to run and slide With giant stride-- Then you deride and gently chide, my love. Although the months, like monkeys' tears, Stealthily come and go; I still admire your passion-fire Whose buried sweetness I well know, Dear cameo! Seraglio in embryo: my love.
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