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| | Search for "Jane Shore" provided by Poetry Connection |
 | | JANE, Jane, Tall as a crane, The morning light creaks down again; Comb your cockscomb-ragged hair, Jane, Jane, come down the stair. |
 | | Jane looks down at her organdy skirt As if it somehow were the thing disgraced, For being there, on the floor, in the dirt, And she catches it up about her waist, Smooths it out along one hip, And pulls it over the crumpled slip. |
 | | I THOUGHT I was not alone, walking here by the shore, But the one I thought was with me, as now I walk by the shore, As I lean and look through the glimmering lightthat one has utterly disappeared, And those appear that perplex me.(Read full poem) |
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