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The Eastern Gate
He left by the Eastern Gate
Slipping through the fading light
Before they closed the city
Against fast approaching night.
They first tumbled in the grass
Under a tree still growing there,
Her skirts as disarranged
As the wind disarranged her hair.
He had loved her with a passion
But a love that had to sadly end,
For while he loved her as a lover,
She had just loved him as a friend.
He stood at her wedding
Then before it was too late
Slipped from their city
Through the Eastern Gate.
She missed him for a long time,
But as time slipped surely by
She could recall his name
With regret and maybe a sigh.
Sometimes at the Eastern Gate,
With a casual sort of care,
She lays bouquets of flowers
By a tree still growing there.
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The Eastern Gate
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