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8apr2014

 

If we took the old path
In the old field
The same gate would stand there
That will never yield.

Where the sun warmed us
With a cloak made of gold,
The rain would be falling
And the wind would be cold;

And we would stop to search
In the wind and the rain,
But we would not find the stargrass
By the path again.

Blue Stargrass, Sara Teasdale

 

Cherish.

 

 

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