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Poem by Ina Donna Coolbrith A Memory THROUGH rifts of cloud the moon's soft silver slips; A little rain has fallen with the night, Which from the emerald under-sky still drips Where the magnolias open, broad and white. So near my window I might reach my hand And touch these milky stars, that to and fro Wave, odorous. . . . Yet 't was in another land — How long ago, my love, how long ago! Ina Donna Coolbrith Ina Donna Coolbrith's other poems: Poems of the other poets with the same name: 1221 Views |
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