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Sep 2018
I raced across from field to field,
Felt the wind sweeping past my face;
Feastโ€™d my eyes on the golden yield:
On the padi dancing with grace.

A rain-drop rested on my palm,
A silver-drop from heavens high.
Natureโ€™s cool freshness is a balm,
Rests the mind aft resting the eye.

I saw a youthful sunny face
Whose eyes were flushed with a soft light;
As at it I did gape and gaze,
The world grew dim, the face grew bright.

I shook my head, I blinked my eyes;
Across the face danced a soft glow.
It smiled and dimmed into the skies;
I looked everywhere high and low.

I saw it thrice, I lost it thrice;
I missed it a hundred times more.
It seemed to tease with gentle eyes,
And with parting smiles left me sore.
Written by
HTR Stevens
1.4k
   Thomas and PoetryJournal
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