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grandmother poem

i saw the archangels in my apple-tree last night
have you seen walking through the village
the smell of the rose so false, the thorns so true
i hold your heart
we who stood
a bird sang
i love the old melodious lays
there by the window in the old house
it was the autumn of the year
shines the last age, the next with hope is seen
my soul goes clad in gorgeous things
once this soft turf

 



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