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95

My nosegays are for Captives—
Dim—expectant eyes,
Fingers denied the plucking,
Patient till Paradise.

To such, if they should whisper
Of morning and the moor,
They bear no other errand,
And I, no other prayer.

Added: 19 Aug 2002 | Last Read: 7 Jun 2025 5:07 PM | Viewed: 7108 times

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