Page:Eight Harvard Poets.djvu/34

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Phonograph—Tango


She was alone that night.
He had broken into her courtyard,
Above the gurgling gutters
he heard—
surely—
a door unchained?

The passage was black; but he risked it—
death in the darkness—
or her hot arms—(love—love me ah-h-h!)

"A good old tune," she murmured
—and I found we were dancing.

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