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Since

Where else but eastward, they lay

Onward by the pine tree felled

How sullen the moss

how sudden the loss

 

Oh but the grass is still green

and the feral badger still mean

Where golden odour wisps o'er head

or cattle gather to be fed

 

This meadow makes giants

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Written by
reece
English
Published
Nov 15, 2016
Lines·Words
9·49
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