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Poem by Francis Thompson
A metrical caprice. Up she rose, fair daughter-well she was graced As a cloud her going, stept from her chair, As a summer-soft cloud, in her going paced, Down dropped her riband-band, and all her waving hair Shook like loosened music cadent to her waist;- Lapsing like music, wavery as water, Slid to her waist.
Francis Thompson's other poems:
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