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grandmother poem

you are my companion
the hypocritic days
had he and i but met
i love my hour of wind and light
along a river-side
melancholy days have come
day is done
she must go back, she said
i am old and blind
there is no flock, however watched and tended
the little pitiful, worn, laughing faces
within my hand i hold
stay no more
but i cannot read you now

 



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