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Mar 2020
To a wood of Ash and Oak I'll go
And in shade of ancient canopy lie
Amongst Moss I'll make my bed

In this mossy sleep I'll die
And on the grass will lay my head
My final ending sight the sky

The Foxes over me will tread
And of a meal they'll make my eye
But on this fact I have no dread

For I will not be there to spy
Written by
Oisin Prendergast
52
   Bogdan Dragos
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