Vachel Lindsay Poems

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Upon her breast her hands and hair
Were tangled all together.
The moon of June forbade me not —
The golden night time weather
In balmy sighs commanded me
To kiss them like a feather.

Her looming hair, her burning hands,
Were tangled black and white.
My face I buried there. I pray —
So far from her to-night —
For grace, to dream I kiss her soul
Amid the black and white.

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