Draw up the blinds and let the stars rush in,
The mournful moon and all the air she swims.
I would not languish in my mother-mood
While just without earth makes her old, mad din. beutiful poem. tony
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Draw up the blinds and let the stars rush in, The mournful moon and all the air she swims. I would not languish in my mother-mood While just without earth makes her old, mad din. beutiful poem. tony