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Poem by Edna St. Vincent Millay The Wood Road If I were to walk this way Hand in hand with Grief, I should mark that maple-spray Coming into leaf. I should note how the old burrs Rot upon the ground. Yes, though Grief should know me hers While the world goes round, It could not if truth be said This was lost on me: A rock-maple showing red, Burrs beneath a tree. Edna St. Vincent Millay Edna St. Vincent Millay's other poems:
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