I watcher her face to see which way
She took the awful news —
Whether she died before she heard
Or in protracted bruise
Remained a few slow years with us —
Each heavier than the last —
A further afternoon to fail,
As Flower at fall of Frost.
I watcher her face to see which way
She took the awful news —
Whether she died before she heard
Or in protracted bruise
Remained a few slow years with us —
Each heavier than the last —
A further afternoon to fail,
As Flower at fall of Frost.
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