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Very old are the woods And the buds that bre

Very old are the woods
And the buds that break
Out of the brier""s boughs
When March winds wake
So old with their beauty are
Oh no man knows
Through what wild centuries
Roves back the rose.
Very old are the brooks
And the rills that rise
Where snow sleeps cold beneath
The azure skies
Sing such a history
Of come and gone
Their every drop is as wise
As Solomon.

Very old are we men
Our dreams are tales
Told in dim Eden
By Eve""s nightingales
We wake and whisper awhile
But the day gone by
Silence and sleep like fields
Of amaranth lie. .

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by:- admin posted in:- walter de la mare

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