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Poem by Charlotte Mew
Sometimes I know the way You walk, up over the bay; It is a wind from that far sea That blows the fragrance of your hair to me. Or in this garden when the breeze Touches my trees To stir their dreaming shadows on the grass I see you pass. In sheltered beds, the heart of every rose Serenely sleeps to-night. As shut as those Your garded heart; as safe as they fomr the beat, beat Of hooves that tread dropped roses in the street. Turn never again On these eyes blind with a wild rain Your eyes; they were stars to me.-- There are things stars may not see. But call, call, and though Christ stands Still with scarred hands Over my mouth, I must answer. So I will come--He shall let me go!
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